Saving Abbie

by Allan Baillie

  Abbie was flying, as if she was still clinging to the side of Mist, but Mist was not there. She was flying, all by herself, and she didn’t want it to stop.

  Then Cas brought it to an end at a lush tree full of orangs.

  And some of the orangs looked a little familiar … There was the big male over there, staring at her and trying to bite a great spiked fruit, and the skinny female trying to get out of everyone’s way, and – ah yes – Dafida was heavier now, with longer arms and a slight scar over her shoulder. No Einstein any more, but the old sour look was still there.

  Abbie nodded slightly to Dafida but she ignored her as she ripped one of the spiked fruit from the tree.

  Everything was changing.

  Abbie looked again at the big male. It was Komo. Komo from the raid on Ki’s rubbish bin. He would never get into it now. He smacked his lips together at her. The skinny female was Sadi, no longer keeping her arms folded around her body. Still nervous, but not so much.

  A white-faced gibbon swung into the orangs’ fruit tree and Sadi waved her arms at him. The gibbon hissed at her in protest. The old Sadi would have scuttled away – the old Sadi would have run away even if little Einstein had hissed at her! But this was a new Sadi. She pushed her face at the gibbon and shoved it hard on the shoulder. The gibbon looked a little alarmed and retreated in surprise.

  Everybody was different.

  Cas steered Abbie towards one of the spiked fruit as she screwed another one off the tree. Close up the fruit smelled bad, like a rotting animal on a pile of decaying vegetables, and there was no way of getting past the hard green spiky skin. And why would anyone try?

  But she could remember Mist ripping the skin off, almost laughing as she did so.

  Abbie looked at Cas as she worked at her fruit, using her teeth and hand and a foot at an almost invisible seam. She copied her, or tried to copy her. Cas ripped the skin apart in a few moments but Abbie’s fruit bit her back, the spikes thrusting at her mouth and lips. But she bit hard, pulled, shook her head like a pig with a tree root and the skin ripped away.

  The fruit reeked like the bottom of Ki’s rubbish bin on a hot day, like an old dead fish, like a stork’s egg in an abandoned nest. But the flesh was rich yellow and all the orangs were eating it. Eating very fast.

  Abbie scooped up one of the stones from the fruit and lifted it to her nose. Mist used to eat this. She used to pull the yellow substance from the fruit, shove it into her wide mouth, and give a soft sigh.

  Abbie put the stone between her teeth. And blinked.

  Now you know why Sadi, nervous Sadi, drove off that gibbon. It is the richest, the most exciting taste ever, even better than the black chocolate ice-cream you stole from Ian. This fruit was custard apples, mangoes, pawpaw, bananas, maybe even a couple of small termites as well. You would go anywhere in the jungle to find this fruit, and of course that’s why everyone was here. But you don’t have to worry about that now.

  Abbie closed her eyes and forgot the noisy orangs around her, concentrating instead on where her tongue was taking her. Komo shambled over then, prodding at her gently as if to see if her new long body was real. But Abbie wasn’t interested. She was already looking for the next fruit.

  A heavy branch creaked behind her and a shadow drifted across them. Komo looked up and his face changed to something close to awe. He clambered back from Abbie in a hurry.

  Abbie saw an untouched fruit in the corner of her eye, felt the shadow sweeping towards it and dived. She clutched the fruit and wrenched it from the branch.

  A great hand snatched at the air and hovered above Abbie’s claimed fruit.

  Abbie stared at the hand. It made hers look like Brown Berry’s spider hands, with black fingers as long as her face and as thick as a nest of tree snakes.

  She hunched in fear of being swatted by that immense hand and turned away.

  This is a mountain! Dafida is big, big as a bush, but compared with this male orang she is only a sour monkey. Look at those arms! Like trees. The Mountain’s dark red hair was so long they swept the leaves. And that head. A boulder on a dry grass hill, with two long cheek pads from his forehead to his jaw. Those pads seemed to frame his dark, powerful face. That face could be savage but it wasn’t. And the eyes …

  Abbie blinked. She looked away from those eyes and she put her funny face on. She offered her stolen fruit with an open hand.

  But The Mountain turned his head and swung after another fruit, shaking the tree.

  Abbie watched Cas twitching her nose after him.

  Finally the fruits were gone and the orangs swung sadly away. The tree carried only Abbie, Cas, Brown Berry and Komo now. The Mountain lay in a low fork and listened to his belly rumble.

  Abbie slumped on a broad branch with her hand resting on her tight belly. That’s it, you are never going to eat again.

  All she wanted now was a nest – anybody’s nest would be fine. Then she could take a nap until the next wet season.

  But Komo was hanging near by staring at her. He was bigger than her now and there was a sign of those growing cheek pads, like she had seen on The Mountain. Abbie blew a tired raspberry at him.

  What? Go away.

  Komo dropped upside down and made fat lips back at her. Remember the good times downriver, hey? The terrible first nests, when you fell through one. And the treetop snacks.

  Abbie lifted her lip. Not interested.

  Komo looked hurt for a moment, then capered about her. What about raiding the rubbish bin and dropping sticks on Ki? Hey?

  Abbie turned away.

  That was the trouble. Komo was still a funny monkey, but something had happened to Abbie and she didn’t know what it was.

  Komo didn’t understand either. He flashed a half grin and dropped to Abbie’s branch. Abbie grunted and backed away, knocking a piece of bark off the branch at the same time, spinning it down to the belly of The Mountain below.

  Komo grabbed Abbie’s leg. Abbie shrieked at him and shoved her foot against his face. He pushed her foot to one side in irritation and reached for her shoulder.

  Then suddenly he let go.

  He looked up at the vast shadow of The Mountain and bounced backwards, turned and clambered to the next tree. The Mountain reached out and shook a branch so the leaves seemed to be snapping at Komo. Komo moved away, then finally climbed and swung off. The Mountain watched him go until the branches stopped swaying in his wake. Then he looked down at Abbie.

  Abbie pulled a funny face at him. Thank you. Why don’t you stay around and we can get to be friends …

  The Mountain gazed back at Abbie as if she was a lump of wood. Then he moved off.

  She made a lonely hoot and slumped on the branch like a dead ape.

  ‘Well, how was the holiday?’ Becky said, dabbing oil paint onto a small canvas.

  ‘Okay, I guess. Great weather.’ Ian sat rigid before her as he talked through the side of his mouth.

  ‘And with the girl …?’ Becky looked up.

  ‘Reene? We talked a bit, but I got thinking most about Abbie.’

  Becky snorted. ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘No, really. And it’s about time.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake!’ Becky waved her paintbrush at Ian as if it was a weapon.

  ‘What?’ Ian lifted his jaw from his aching fist.

  ‘Your face. It’s suddenly gone black and miserable. How can I get it right?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I did that, didn’t I? Got you worrying about Abbie.’

  ‘No. We got the Internet going on Dad’s computer. So I looked up Borneo, Kalimantan. I shouldn’t have looked.’

  ‘Bad, hey.’

  ‘It’s all bad. The loggers and the farmers chop and burn a piece of orang jungle until the orangs are isolated, trapped without food. Some of the farmers are shooting them out of the trees for stew. And the poachers are always hunting for the babies. Not in Abbie’s area at the moment, but it doesn’t matter …’

  Becky painted the
small canvas quietly.

  ‘And I can’t do anything about it!’

  Abbie pulled herself up when she heard the sound of crashing twigs from the next tree. She could see Cas squatting high in the canopy, gazing down with a loose shadow of a smile. Below her the leaves thrashed around and occasionally Brown Berry leaped into the air to pitch back into the leaves.

  Brown Berry is fighting a tree snake! Abbie swayed her head. No, no. Brown Berry is grinning, squealing like a pig in a pile of vegetable scraps, and Cas isn’t worried at all.

  Abbie crossed over to their tree, and climbed slowly around the upheaval until she could see into it without actually getting involved.

  The Mountain was lying precariously on a slender branch, with his head thrown back, his mouth wide open, snorting in delight. He was being attacked by a determined Brown Berry and he was throwing the small orang into the air with both feet and both hands, like a ball.

  Abbie breathed a soft little breath. Oh.

  The Mountain jerked his head up and steadied his eyes on Abbie. He caught the falling Brown Berry but he didn’t throw him up again. Brown Berry squirmed and protested, so The Mountain lowered him onto the plateau of his chest.

  Then he turned back to Abbie, half cocking his head, as if he was seeing her with new eyes.

  Abbie felt a faint shiver deep in her body and for a moment she thought of swinging away, the rush of wind combing her long hair as she began to fly. But no … The Mountain hauled himself up to her level and stroked her shoulder. She examined a leaf, ignoring him, with her face set in utter boredom. But she didn’t move away. He made a soft clicking sound in his mouth, as if he was keeping a sleepy cricket in his cheek pouches.

  Abbie sucked her tongue and yawned. He moved his hand from her shoulder and touched her knee. She looked up from the leaf and gave him a slow grin.

  ‘Well?’ Becky sucked her lip as she whipped the cover from the portrait.

  Ian looked at the painting in silence.

  ‘I’ve got to learn a lot. It’s not the same thing as doing a castle wall. I’m sorry …’

  Ian was shaking his head. ‘No, no.’ He swallowed. ‘It’s great, Becky. It’s fantastic. It’s just I never thought that my face was worth painting.’

  ‘It is.’ Becky turned to Ian and smiled softly.

  ‘Thank you, Tink.’

  Becky looked puzzled for a moment. Tink. From Tinkerbell, from the A Club’s sneering nickname. But it wasn’t a weapon any more. Ian had turned it around. Becky smiled up at him.

  Ian looked at the smile, at the wrinkling eyes, and hesitated. Then he moved closer and kissed her gently on the mouth.

  The Mountain stayed around Abbie for several days, swinging wildly about her, showing his speed and strength. But he didn’t venture to the top of the trees.

  Abbie watched him make a long swing onto a tall stag, one of those old dead trees which had been standing long enough to lose most of its branches. He landed on the bare top with enough impact to make the blackened trunk move. He began working the stag like a child on a swing, throwing his body back and forth as it swayed, wrenching the roots from the damp soil. Finally the stag tilted, trembled a little and slowly began to fall, with The Mountain still on top.

  Abbie sucked her teeth. He is going to kill himself… But The Mountain simply stood on the toppling trunk and reached casually for a passing branch. He was whipped into a tree as the stag crashed heavily behind him.

  Abbie stroked her fingers down her cheeks. What did he do that for? She looked at Cas, but she only shrugged and made funny faces at Brown Berry.

  The Mountain swung off into the jungle, alone. Abbie watched him go, the tall trees bending and shaking as he travelled. She finally turned to Cas and wrinkled her nose.

  Cas shrugged slightly, then broke a twig and scratched her back.

  Nothing’s new.

  Mum frowned at Ian. ‘A job? Now?’

  ‘At the supermarket. I’ll be loading cases and putting tins into shelves. They don’t want me at the checkout. Too ugly.’

  ‘But how will you find the time to do it?’

  ‘I’ll do it before school and after, and on Saturdays and Sundays. Mainly early on Saturdays.’

  ‘But what I mean is how can you keep up with your studies as well?’

  ‘No worries. Really, I’ll stop watching TV and mucking around. I’ll be so fit.’

  ‘The acting?’

  Ian nodded slowly. ‘I’ll give it up if I have to.’

  Mum turned to a silent Dad. ‘I think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?’

  Dad shrugged. ‘He’s worked it out. Let him go.’

  Mum sighed. ‘Why do you suddenly want the money?’

  ‘I want to save for a trip to Borneo.’

  ‘Hail, great King!’ Becky bowed her head.

  ‘Luce has gone mad, you know that?’ Ian said. ‘Me as Macbeth!’

  Becky suddenly ran round in circles clapping her hands.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘You’re supposed to call it The Scottish Play. Otherwise there are terrible disasters.’

  ‘I wasn’t naming the play, just naming the character. But with me as him there has to be a terrible disaster.’

  ‘I’ll see into my cauldron,’ hissed Becky. ‘Let it bubble, eye of newt and toe of frog!’

  ‘And you get to be the Second Witch. Your A Club must love that.’

  ‘No way, because I love it. What have they got? I’m rumpled with maybe too much weight about me – oh, shutup Ian! – okay, I am a witch. Witches are supposed to be horrible and if they have a go at me, Shakespeare drops in. Gall of goat … Cool it! … baboon’s blood … Oops!’ Becky hunched and looked guilty.

  ‘Ah, forget it. It’s a different animal.’

  ‘Not much. Could be a Freudian slip. Maybe I’m getting jealous of Abbie.’

  ‘Ah, those enormous pink lips …’

  ‘Getoutofit!’

  Abbie lay in her nest, looking down at the tiny creature that had come out of her body, and she made a tired funny face at it. It ignored her and sucked in complete contentment.

  He is even smaller than Brown Berry. Sneeze and he will be tossed into the wind like a leaf. Don’t sneeze. Those curling pink ears were like budding flowers, the touch of red hair like a butterfly bobbing above his head. And that tiny button nose was a mushroom, a very delicious mushroom.

  He opened an eye to look at her.

  But there was something there that looked like The Mountain too. Not much, nothing to point at. He was like The Mountain as a pebble was like a boulder.

  Pebble closed his eye and Abbie cleaned him and groomed his hair. It would be good to show Pebble to The Mountain, but he had moved on a long time ago. It would be good to show Pebble to Cas, but she had also taken Brown Berry to find a fresh fruit tree.

  It would be good to show Pebble to the boy Ian …

  She rippled her lip at Pebble until he reached up to clutch it.

  Ian? She remembered the ship in the storm, that far back. She rarely even dreamt about the storm now. But she remembered his face. No hair on his cheeks, small mouth but fat lips. And eyes as green as a tree.

  But maybe he’s grown, she thought. A little like Einstein has grown. And, like Einstein, maybe he has swung away from his mother. No, he could never swing. He would tramp away on those stony tracks. He couldn’t climb trees so he would be staying in those sleeping places instead of nests. Poor Ian.

  Abbie nibbled one of Pebble’s tiny fingers. Pebble blinked once and stared at her with his huge eyes. She nursed Pebble in the high nest for the rest of the day, but the following morning she knew she had to move. She was feeling hungry after all. She thought of going to the red berry tree. It would be ripe now, and maybe Cas would be there. With Brown Berry and maybe some other orangs …

  She stroked Pebble’s ear and he opened a sleepy eye.

  No, now wasn’t the time to see others. Some of them were a bit rough. Anyhow, you hav
e Pebble and Pebble has you. Who needs anyone else?

  Abbie swung from her nest as Pebble’s long arms and legs locked onto her body, without knowing quite where she was going. After a few days of nibbling bark, leaves and termites along the edge of her jungle, she slid into the unknown.

  But she wasn’t particularly worried about climbing into a new jungle, since all the jungle she had been living in had been new to her from that first stay downriver. There she had to find a tree for her first nest and find her first food away from the bananas and the milk. Now she was an expert.

  Early in the morning she found the river again. Two rivers. The wide river that Gistok had crossed long ago was met by a smaller, cleaner river. She and Pebble sat in a tree for a while and watched many fast boats roaring by, churning the muddy water. Finally she followed the smaller, quieter river.

  She reached a house floating on the water, on a rough raft of heavy logs. But it was almost sinking. There were even a few windows, but there was nobody there. She wanted to explore the house but it was jammed into the mud bank on the other side of the river. She hooted softly at Pebble and moved on.

  The brown water gave way to a faster, cleaner flow. The water was black, but that was only caused by the dye from the plant roots. Several long-nosed monkeys capered about on overhanging branches on the other side of the water. Abbie hung from a branch as Pebble peered at them. Soon you’re going to be almost as fast as them. Then the monkeys saw Abbie and they made faces and shrieked at her. Abbie blew a raspberry back. And you’re smarter than them already!

  But the monkeys and Abbie were not worried by each other. They wouldn’t worry normally and now, although they were only ten metres apart, the river was between them.

  Abbie looked down from the hooting clowns and tensed her body. The river was hemmed in by a tangle of floating broad-leaved plants. In places the rearing leaves on each side were touching. But not here. Here the leaves had been flattened. She pulled herself carefully to a secure branch and sucked her cheek. That means danger. But why?

  She learned why in the flicker of a frog’s tongue. A small monkey scampered to the tip of a branch, clinging onto some twigs and leaning towards Abbie. It hissed bravely across the space and jumped up and down. The leader of the monkeys barked in annoyance. It looked back in fright as it grabbed a stick. A dead stick.