Pearced (37 page)

DP:  “What? I'm going to suck your nipples until they're sore” And so must he.

TC:  “Behave” the exact opposite of what I really want.

DP:  “You don’t really want me to” bingo!

TC:  “As always you have a good point” playful.

DP: “Fall behind, and I’ll show you a good point, or make you feel it” oooh, I like the sound of that.

TC:  “Promises” flirty.

DP: ‘Tharie?’ Commanding.

Of course I can’t resist that type of invitation and do exactly as he asks, and as Daniel shows me the ‘point’ I relax bit by bit, further and further into sation, he peels the Charles onion flimsy layer, by flimsy layer, but that was Daniels plan wasn’t it? It works too.  We chatter about silly things in a deliberate attempt to stop me thinking about where I am.  We sing songs and tell filthy jokes and my head is in neutral, the balance of intense fear with the camaraderie of our group and holding hands tightly with this incredible man, I am happier than I expected to be, alongside humans, ever. I miss my boys though.

Note to self, stop talking to yourself and leaving notes, it’s silly.

Reaching the bottom of the giant steps in the rock we reach a surface quite wet because of all the precipitation in the cave dripping onto us from the roof, and pause to take a breath.  The rain we felt in the forest must work its way through the mountain.  I can hear a white noise, my mind is tuned into background humming’s and other 'noises' other people either don’t notice or ignore.  But picking up on things is what my busy brain does better than anyone else. It's how trends start, with the low level churnings for a new idea, it's exactly the same thing.

“I can hear water flowing.” I say to the group, and very faint flashes of light criss cross wildly about while they try to see what I’m hearing, but of course they cannot.  My brain knows exactly what that is and doesn’t give it any more of its precious time thinking about it!

“I can't hear anything.” says Kurt, “you must have great hearing.” shakes of heads all round, and it's just me that can hear the hum.  You'd think with all the loud music I subject my ears to, my hearing would likely not be top-notch, but hey.

“Tharie picks up on things us ordinary folk don't even notice, don't you?” He smiles at me, “it's a gift.” How much had Daniel told him?

“It can be, but sometimes it hurts.” I don’t bother to explain.

Looking around us we are one missing, the Prof., “Prof., “I shout. “Professor?”

“Up here,” a faint voice calls, “I found another marker halfway down, I was just taking photographs of the writings.”  I sometimes wish my brain would let me in on its findings, but it’s perverse, and will keep things from me until I’m ready to hear them.  Plus, I may have been slightly busy at the time as I happily recall.  But it's obvious now of course, what else could those markings be?  “It seems we must follow the path of water through the mountain.” The Professor lectures us. “The writings tell of an outsider placing a treasure on an island, and staying to guard it.”

“An island?” From Kurt, “down here?”

“That’s what it says.” Nigel puts his phone away. “It’s possible, some regions have underground rivers, some that go undiscovered for millions of years, some never being found.”

“So it’ll be dry, this island?” Desperately trying to forget Shelley Winters and that bloody film. I'm actually a strong swimmer, but swimming is for holidays by the sea, not this.

“We continue?” Stan says more like a command than a question, and heads off down another tunnel, this one steeper than before.  Deep down, my ears have cloyed, it’s warm and clammy, I am not happy.  We are suddenly in another cavern this time bigger than the first, a fresher tasting air fills the space and I take big gulps full.

…..where I went, and shall not come again. True bloody story Houseman.

There is the sound again, this time everyone can hear it, we follow the noise to the back wall and there's a stream merrily wandering around the rocks, it's current steady and slow as it has done for thousands of years.  And there on the wall above the stream, just in reach at the narrowest point is a marking on the wall. But not like the other ancient markings, it's a crude rendition of a spread eagle and a ship in its claws. I gasp and my hand flies to my mouth. “Daniel,” everyone turns to look at what I’m transfixed on.

“I told you she notices things.” Daniel looks pleased, “Kurt, look.”

“Dad?” His eyes wide and excited, like a kid on Xmas day.

“Looks that way doesn't it? He used to draw these for Steven our youngest brother when he was a kid, he loved tales of the sea, and Dad loved to take him out in his yacht, he and Steven are very close.” He looks at me as if it needed explaining. “One day you'll meet Steven, but he's...”

“What Danny is trying to say is Stevie is a wayward guitarist and we hardly ever see him.” Wonder if he knows Henry? He rolls his eyes.

“Stevie Dougherty, the guitarist for Blacksmith?” I ask. “I love his music, and wasn’t he dating that supermodel Marissa Messi?” Ha! “And he's your little brother, drug problems, rehab, fast cars, pop-up gigs Stevie?”

“Yep!” Kurt slaps Daniel on the back, must be a Brother thing, “but we love him.” I roll my eyes, because I know exactly what those rock types are like, remember to ask Henry about him.

Daniel is staring at the little drawing on the rock face, I take a picture with my iPhone, as I do the flash picks up a glint in the design. The water isn’t deeper than the treads of my jodhpur boots at this point, so I splash through the stream and go closer to the mark to examine it better, touching it with my fingers.

Enter at C…..

“It's gold,” I breathe, “there's a seam of gold here in the layers of the rock, your Dad's little drawing marks it clearly, if it weren’t here, we'd never have noticed it.” I run my fingers across the glistening seam “obviously I have no clue, but could there be mine-able gold through this mountain, maybe a fortune’s worth.” I step back through the water to Daniels side, “do you think your Dad left signs for us to find this?”

Daniel and Kurt look at each other, “he was very interested in mining equipment just before he disappeared, he bought an old mining company and had huge crates of equipment stored in a warehouse ready to ship.” That’s brand new information.

“Ship to where?” Liza asks, she loves crime drama too obviously, we’re a type aren’t we?

“Well, here would be my guess.” Kurt answers. Of course.

“Let’s follow the river to the next cave and stop for refreshments.” Adds Stan in a very Dad tone. No one argues with his logic or timing and we all just continue our journey underground, and I know I have packed the chocolate biscuits, so, that’s something to look forward to.

Halt at X, turn on the forehand to the right. (Of course it would have to say three o'clock for me to ride it).

In the excitement of the morning my voices have abated, clearly they have better things to concentrate on now like puzzle solving, and my brain really loves a puzzle. It’s why I like reciting Liza's dressage tests, much easier than riding them I can tell you.  I of course take my flask from my pack and drink thirstily from the plastic beaker.  We walk following the calming trickle of the stream through the mountain, at one time this must have been a huge body of erosive water to carve the rock out like this.  I try not to think about it.  The stream gets wider as we round a bend in the tunnel, deeper, and faster too. And the noise gets louder. “There's a fall in here.” I say to no one in particular.

“A waterfall?” Kurt responds, “Yes, I can hear it now, like a strong kinetic hiss.” He grabs Liza and pulls her close, kisses her on the top of the head, “romantic eh?” Liza agrees with an excited flick of her hair.

Anyway…..

We carry on, I check my Dad's watch, click the button to illuminate the dial and we have been walking for a few hours much to my surprise. “It's 11.20 people,” I say out loud, and in this cave it sounds amplified, “tea time.” A loud murmur of appreciation is heard all round and I break out the KitKats and we all drink from our own flasks, freshly filled this morning at breakfast. Mine is getting worryingly low on liquid refreshment, so I plan to make a pot as soon as is humanly possible.  Sitting on rocks as chairs we discuss where we are.  Guess how far under the mountain we've gone, again I try not to think about it, but once my mind has its grips in an idea, there's no letting go.

Proceed to F working trot. Now I'm just inventing it.  And ask the judge, who's sitting quietly in a little hut at one end of the arena, if the kettle’s on. Halt and salute.

I direct my torch to the entrance of our next tunnel and notice something that doesn't belong scratched into the rock.  I jam the torch into the rock to keep it pointing and standing cup in one hand, chocolate in the other I wander over to the wall.  Daniel joins me, he selected Cadbury's fruit and nut chocolate bar, well, who wouldn’t, given the choice?  “What have you spotted?” I have chocolate envy, and look sadly at my KitKat.

“Another one of your Dad's drawings.” I point with my tea, sneakily filling up my cup from Daniels flask whilst he’s concentrating on the carving, it’s wrong, I know, but needs must. And now I’ll still have emergency provisions in mine.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice baby?” He smiles, busted.

I break off a finger and hold it up to him, “KitKat?” In reply

“You're giving me the finger?” Yes. He shakes his head at me.  “It's a ship without sails, waves below and a single man on-board.”  He translates.

“Yes.....?” I attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but of course I can read it too.  “But did you notice?” I take a sip of hot tea, his tastes hotter than mine, and point with a finger of chocolate, “that's your Dad on board.” He looks closer to spot what I have seen.

“How can you know that?” He moves in closer to look.

“Because,” adding a more obvious tone of sarcasm than is natural to make a point, “he's written 'Dad' on his arm like a tattoo! It's hardly subtle.” I scold, laughing.  Kurt joins us and he doesn't spot it either, what must it be like, I think to myself in frustration, to go through life missing things.  Subtle clues, and changes in behaviours to be normal? I suddenly wished I knew.  Shake off the momentary feeling, no, I’m happy as I am. I might be weird, but all the best people are aren’t they dear reader? Well,
you’re
still reading aren’t you?

Back to the cave, and our hero has just spotted a subliminal message from his father, he looks very handsome in the torchlight, his stubble growing on his strong chin, whilst our heroine in her war torn shirt with her heaving breasts barely contained within, sips breakfast tea gazing up at the chiselled features of the man she loves……bloody hell, I’ve gone all Mills & Boon, now I need tea.

“God” you're right, Dad does have a tattoo there on his arm of a ship called The Eagle.” Kurt adds.

“Does? Are we to assume somewhere we'll bump into the man?” Pause for effect, “he's been gone years, don't you think if he were still alive he'd have tried to contact us?” Daniel pleads for an answer from his older sibling. Kurt just shrugs, and drinks the rest of his tea. Men!

“Let’s get moving.” Interjects Stan, “kids, I knew your Dad, he would have done everything to keep you all safe, you were his world.”  He shifts his stance, uncomfortable, “if he still lives, there's a bloody good reason for him not letting you all know.” There, well said, hope it’s true.  Daniel opens he mouth to interject, Stan heads his words off at the pass.  “We served together you see, he,” deep breath, “he wouldn’t have abandoned you, his greatest mission was being your father.”  All surprised by Stan’s outburst but moved by his sentiment, its real, I can feel it. He brushes his hand over the stubble thinking. Bet he’s thinking that gun needs rechecking?  I take another slurp of tea, and dunk a finger of chocolate.

Stan rechecks his firearm again. Nigel cleans his spectacles. Liza readjusts her hair. Kurt yawns.

Kurt and Daniel exchange looks, they didn’t know about Stan, clearly confused, but they both love and respect Stan, that much is clear.

“I miss him too.” Stan continues, “He was my friend.” This is hard for him as well, “but we have to assume he's gone.  Now, let’s grab our things and resume our journey.”  Stan is holding something back, he flicks me a quick look, I can sense it, I feel it in my brain.  He knows it too so he avoids my questioning look which no one else picks up on, but I sense good intentions so drop the subject.  So forward we all go, following the now river as it turns another bend, and we start singing old slave songs to keep our spirits up, Stan has an incredible voice, like a Welsh choirboy, and here in this dark place is a great venue for the sound. Thankful he doesn’t do requests, but Stan says he doesn’t know any Lonnie Donnigan.

Small mercies.

More during chapter twenty-eight, still Saturday
:
2ndnovember2013, the same day.

There is a strange very feint glow up ahead, again so very slight you wouldn’t notice it unless it is very, very dark. And it’s very, very dark, so notice it I do.

Long rein at walk diagonally across the arena.

The noisy hiss of the waterfall is loud now and we can taste what we all hope is clean water vapour in the air. It has a cooling effect on our hot tired bodies and we have our energy renewed.