One day, early on in their stay, his mum had pushed him towards her. He’d taken a few steps, his hands thrust into the back pockets of his baggy jeans, and mumbled something indistinguishably French at her. Then he’d shuffled away to where Alain was dismantling a broken machine. Rainbow had shrugged and turned back to her tree book.
Most of the time the children were at school. When Domi was busy, Rainbow would help milk the goats, take the dogs for walks, mend fences with François – the animal whisperer – or play with two-year-old Marine. Marine was almost as good company as Acrobat. The only problem was that when Rainbow stopped playing and sketched, Marine would follow her and spread her sticky, chubby hands over the pages of Rainbow’s pad. As soon as the children came home from school, Christophe whisked her away to play proper games under his bored supervision.
The evening Rainbow discovered Christophe’s linguistic skills, he’d come home with two black eyes and blood all over his face. He scowled at everyone. It reminded her of the embarrassing fuss Mum and Bob’s friends had made when Lucy Carter had beaten her up. While the children crowded around Christophe and tried to touch his swollen eyes, she crossed the garden and opened the rabbit hutch door.
“The rabbit’s escaped! Come and help,” she called.
The children ran over, shouting at her, and she saw Christophe slope into the house. When they cleared the dinner table, a couple of hours later, Christophe stood in her path with his arms full of books.
“Here’s some BDs for you,” he muttered in English.
“BDs?”
“Bandes dessinées. Comic books,” he said. He shoved the pile of Boule et Bill comic books into her arms.
Rainbow was so amazed to hear English words twist out of his sullen mouth that she couldn’t think how to reply. He turned back and was deep in conversation with Alain before she could recover and thank him.
She struggled to read one of the Boule et Bill comic books that night while she waited for Mum to finish the bottle of wine she was drinking downstairs with Chantal and Céline. The other adults had left for various appointments with clients. In the daytime, their palm-reading, tarot-card interpretations, healing and other spiritual services took place in three special rooms in the house. But in the evenings the children made the atmosphere too hectic for clients to be able to relax in intimacy. Evening appointments were held in clients’ homes.
Two of the reception rooms, which doubled up as bedrooms, were small and overstuffed with furnishings. They smelt musky and a nebula of incense hung in the air, like Mum’s workroom at home. The third room was Domi’s. It looked like the physiotherapy unit where Rainbow had exercised to awaken her leg muscles in the long months after her accident. The clean brightness made her feel healthy as soon as she stepped inside.
She’d asked Domi if she could watch a healing session with him, but he’d refused. He’d told her that people weren’t the same once they were alone in the room with him. They relaxed their stubborn defiance and let themselves be carried away to belief. He said this wouldn’t be possible if a third person was present. And he added that allowing yourself to believe was a very private action, especially in today’s scientific world. He’d finished by saying that one day, if she turned to healing people, she’d understand. Rainbow had nodded, but she knew it was trees she wanted to help, not people.
At last she heard footsteps on the stairs and Mum entered their bedroom. Rainbow put down Boule et Bill.
“Are you drunk?”
“No, just deeper,” Mum replied.
She undid her chignon and let her black hair tumble free.
“It’s been three weeks now,” said Rainbow. “When are we going home?”
Mum picked up her hairbrush. She turned towards the window and began the long strokes that were now familiar to Rainbow. Rainbow didn’t like her silence.
“We are going home, aren’t we?”
“I thought you were happy here,” said Mum.
“I am. But I miss Acrobat,” replied Rainbow. “And Bob, a bit.”
Mum sighed. “Bob’s not ready for us to go home yet, love.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s still in a bad mood with us. If we go back now, we’ll be returning to more fights. It’s nice and peaceful here, isn’t it?”
“Why doesn’t Bob come here, then? With Acrobat and the kittens. He’d feel better and not want to shout all the time.”
“You know what he thinks about anything spiritual. He wouldn’t agree with this kind of life. And there’s no proper music.”
Rainbow pushed the comic book off the bed.
“When will he be ready, then?”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
“But I want to go home.”
“Aren’t you better here? You were being picked on at school and you said yourself that you were fed up with our fights.”
“But–”
“And you’ve got Domi here to help you with your gift.”
That was true. Her real father. But as much as she liked Domi, he wasn’t Bob. She couldn’t understand herself. She’d have given anything to swap Bob for a proper father, yet now it had happened she found she missed him.
Mum was in full flow. She sat down on the bed beside Rainbow, squashing her leg. “We should make the most of our stay here. You can learn to speak good French and heal trees. We could even enrol you at school with Christophe.”
“School? But it’s all in French.”
“That could be fun.”
“No way.”
Rainbow caught a strand of hair and twisted it. School? Fun? French school would be even worse than English school. She’d be more of an outsider here.
“Let’s enrol you for September, just in case. We can work on your French this summer, here at the Logis.”
Rainbow yanked her sleeping bag out from under Mum’s weight.
“Bob will be ready by summer.”
She wriggled down inside, turned her back on Mum and squeezed her eyes shut. She would have to take things into her own hands.
Chapter 16
It wasn’t easy to use the Logis telephone. It hung on the wall under the main staircase in the entrance hall, which had doors to the front, back and sides of the house. The twenty residents passed continually through. Private conversations were only possible at night.
Rainbow waited until Mum was snoring. She crept out of bed and sneaked down the stairs. The house was quiet apart from the scurrying patter of rodent feet and the creaking of a loose shutter in the wind.
She dialled her home number. There was no ringing tone, just emptiness down the line that separated her from Bob. On the noticeboard beside the phone there were dozens of slips of paper. She looked through them while she waited and saw that Mum, in a fit of efficiency, had written their home number on a scrap of envelope. Rainbow hadn’t recognised it at first because it had a code in front. She added 00 44, dropped the zero, and redialled their number.
Bob had been at Fraser’s when they’d left England, but he would be back home now that Mum had left. The ringing tone began. She held her breath and pictured the chaotic kitchen.
It was a long time before she heard a click. Then Bob’s sleepy voice asked who the hell was ringing at this time of night. Rainbow had no idea what time it was – there were no clocks in the house – but she knew it would be an hour earlier in England.
“Bob, it’s me.”
“Speak up. Who?”
“Rainbow,” she hissed.
She turned around and peered into the darkness around her. There was no sign of movement.
“Rainbow! What’s up? Are you all right?”
“Yes. I mean, not really. I want to know when we can come home.”
There was a short silence before Bob spoke.
“Right now, honey, if you want to. Where are you?”
“In France.”
“France? What the hell are you doing there? Where’s Jasmine?”
“In bed. Sh
e said you weren’t ready for us to come home yet.”
There was a growling noise on the end of the line.
“Bob? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Look, what’s your address?”
“I can’t tell you. Mum said it’s a secret. I just want to know when we can come home.”
“Poor Rainy. I bet it’s some kind of weirdo place. She’s so selfish–”
“No, it’s fine. Totally normal. So can we come home tomorrow?”
“Give me your address and I’ll come and pick you up.”
If Bob came, they’d have to leave. She wouldn’t be obliged to enrol at a French school.
“Okay. It’s Le Logis de Châtres, near Cognac.” She whispered more directions and asked when he would arrive.
“As soon as I can. Don’t tell Jasmine or she’ll bolt.”
“Okay. How are Acrobat and his kittens?”
Bob seemed not to have heard. She repeated her question.
“Everything’s just fine. See you soon, honey.”
Rainbow replaced the receiver and listened for suspicious noises from eavesdroppers. Everything was quiet. She tiptoed back upstairs. It was a shame Bob had told her not to say anything. Mum would be pleased to know he wasn’t angry anymore.
Domi was playing a game of chat perché with the children, which appeared to be a French version of ‘tag’. Rainbow sat on the swing and sketched the garden while she waited for him to finish. Mum swanned over to the table and perched on the edge. Beside her, Virginie was sorting through a bag of embroidery threads. Rainbow could hear them talking. Virginie was encouraging Mum to find a music band that needed a singer.
There was no television at Le Logis. The adults listened to classical recordings or pop music in the evenings. This had branched out into jazz and blues with Mum’s addition of tapes and CDs. They also sang along with the guitars at the weekend parties – the old chart-toppers would have made Bob cringe. Mum didn’t seem to mind though. The others would break off to listen as her voice resonated across the clearing. Once she had everyone’s attention she’d sing her new songs. Rainbow could tell they were new because major tones had replaced the sad minors of England. It didn’t sound like blues anymore.
Mum threw her head back and laughed with Virginie. She hadn’t cried since they’d arrived. Rainbow stopped sketching and nibbled the top of her pencil. Maybe she shouldn’t have given their address to Bob. Suppose Mum didn’t want to go home?
Domi called Rainbow’s name. He was crouched in the vegetable patch between the tomato plants with the three youngest children: Sandrine, Rachelle and Marine. Rainbow fumbled with her sketch pad and shoved it back into her rucksack, and then raced towards him. He was pointing something out to six-year-old Sandrine. Rainbow heard him say ‘serpent’ and ‘pas’ and ‘mal’. Beside them lay a curled-up snake. Sandrine slipped her hand into Domi’s.
Sandrine was the daughter of Alain, the mechanic, and Virginie, the clairvoyant. She was often silent because her mum was a depressive. This is what Céline had told Rainbow. She’d added that Virginie had cheered up since Jasmine’s arrival. Virginie was teaching Mum more about crystals, and had pocketfuls of the mysterious coloured stones. She was far less interested in her daughter. Sandrine hung onto Domi as much as she could, or onto her dad when he wasn’t engrossed in car and motorbike repairs. Rainbow felt sorry for her. When she came across her sitting her own, she took her hand and chatted to her in English. It didn’t matter that Sandrine couldn’t understand. She seemed to like the sound of the words and perked up at the attention. After a while, she started to head straight for Rainbow when the children piled out of the van after school. The other kids were a hostile band but Sandrine was a loner.
Domi stood up and backed away from the snake.
“Time for work,” he said, in English.
“Domi, reste avec nous,” whined Rachelle. She grabbed his other hand. Rainbow understood from her body language that she wanted Domi to stay.
“C’est l’heure du travail,” replied Domi, and gently unwound her hand.
“T’es toujours avec elle. C’est pas juste!”
Rainbow quizzed Domi, who translated for her: “They’re complaining that I spend too much time with you.”
“Tell them I’ll be gone soon.”
Domi translated and they fell silent. Then Sandrine spoke up. Rainbow didn’t understand what she said, but it seemed to have a bad effect on the other two. They started to whine again and Marine curled herself around one of Domi’s legs.
Domi disentangled Marine, but his eyes remained fixed on Sandrine. He was silent as he and Rainbow walked towards his motorbike. Rainbow shoved her hands in her pockets.
“What did she say?”
“That you’re here to stay,” he replied.
“No wonder the others were upset. It’s not true, anyway. We’re going home soon.”
Domi collected the helmets and came back.
“You know you can stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks. It’s nice here with you, but we ought to go home. We can come back to visit in the summer holidays.”
“Missing your school friends?”
“No way. I told you, I’m the school weirdo.”
“So why the hurry to get home?”
“Mum isn’t very practical about school stuff. She even suggested I go to school here!” Rainbow grinned at him.
“Well, why not?”
She frowned. He was on Mum’s side.
“I can’t speak French for starters.”
“You’re a bright kid. You’ll learn.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
Domi laid his helmet on the seat of the bike.
“Listen, Rainbow. You’ve got a gift that you want to develop. Life isn’t easy for people who choose to do things differently from the majority. If you stay here, you’ll have the support of everyone in the commune, and the reputation of the commune to help you. I don’t know exactly what work you could do with your gift, but that doesn’t matter for the moment. The answer will come. If you’re serious about wanting to work with trees, I think you’d be better off staying here. Has anyone in the commune treated you as a weirdo because of your gift?”
“No. But I’m still an outsider.”
“Only because of the language. That’s a tiny hurdle to overcome compared to the barriers against anyone with a spiritual gift. It’s tough, even as a group. If you’re on your own it’s worse. You’re lucky your mum’s prepared to help you. She’s brought you here to us, which is a start. But ultimately it’s up to you to decide what you’re willing to sacrifice to follow your vocation.”
“You make it sound scary. I thought I’d just learn a bit about working with French trees and then go home again.”
“And what will you do at home?”
“I don’t know.”
She felt stupid. Bob wanted her to forget her gift, to become a normal person with a normal life. Part of her wanted to be normal, more than anything. But she knew she’d never be normal like Patti or Lucy Carter or Rebecca. She wanted to work with trees for Michael’s sake. The trees needed her and she needed them.
Domi raised her chin with his hand. She was forced to look into his eyes.
“The most important thing is that you feel right within yourself.”
Rainbow nodded.
“You don’t have to decide today. Take your time. Listen to your heart. Don’t try to weigh up the logical advantages and disadvantages. Trust that you’ll know what to do when the time comes.” He let her go. “Now, let’s get to work on some decorative trees. Hop on.”
They straddled the motorbike. Domi eased it along the rutted track and accelerated into the lane. It was all very well for him to tell her to take her time – he didn’t know Bob was on his way to come and pick her up.
The ride didn’t last long. They stopped a few villages away at a chateau that dominated the valley where the River Charente idled from Jarnac to Cognac. Domi in
troduced Rainbow to a perfumed lady, who welcomed them with three dry kisses on their sweaty cheeks. Her garden reminded Rainbow of a dusted and hoovered parlour in a Jane Austen book. The lady hobbled around the flower beds and shrubberies, leaning on Domi’s arm, and pointed with a trembling hand to a plantation of ornamental trees.
Rainbow had never worked on cultivated trees before. There were olives, their backbones gnarled and crooked; black mulberries, their leaves big enough to cover Eve’s nakedness; and several Judas trees and mimosas. She laid her hands on a crusty palm tree and sensed fragility. It shivered from the memory of winter frosts. Cultivated trees felt different from free ones. They were less grounded than the trees in the woods. She could sense more concern for their individual welfare than for the collective interest of trees. And they were bitter about being uprooted from their origins and plonked into a hostile environment.
The wild Charente trees were similar to their English counterparts, although the woods around the commune were small and had limited undergrowth. Domi told her this was so that mushroom-pickers could scavenge. It was rare to see an old tree standing alone in a field, like the solitary oaks at home, or a park of wise hundred-year olds. There were lots of new varieties to learn about, and Domi brought books home from the library to help identify the different species. It reminded her of her time with Michael, except that Michael had been interested in her as a person whereas Domi was obsessed by her gift and its meaning.
She loved holm oaks. They carried the name ‘oak’, but didn’t lose their leaves in winter. There were several along the lanes, standing proud between the edge of the vineyards and the tarmac. Their twin trunks reminded her of the alder on which she’d demonstrated her gift to Bob. Often, one side of the canopy was smoothly rounded in silhouette, while the side growing over the road had been squared off by passing lorries.
Tree Magic Page 13
