The Disestablishment of Paradise (32 page)

And that was the problem. Her questions so preoccupied her that she didn’t really see him, not Mack the man, himself, the bear, the grunt, the lover, loyal to death. What she saw was a
piece in a pattern. Her educated mind still hid too easily in abstractions, not yet being developed enough to be earthy.

She stared until Mack became uncomfortable. Finally she said, ‘I want to tell you something. It is very important, and very exciting. It happened when I was in a dream world.’

Mack looked interested. ‘Go on.’

Hera took a deep breath. ‘I think there is a Dendron alive on Paradise.’

Mack did not move. From his expression it was impossible to tell what he was thinking or what revelation he had expected: certainly not anything to do with a Dendron, we can be sure.

‘It is true,’ she said, oblivious. ‘When I was out for the count, I had these visions – no, adventures – and most of them involved a Dendron.’

‘Really? And what happened?’

‘Oh, it used to come to me, and it was so real. I believed I was there, with it, and it was in pain and needed help. Of course it could have been an ideal Dendron because I’ve never
seen a live one.’

‘What does an
ideal
Dendron look like?’

‘Well, you’ve seen the pictures of them. I suppose it is a composite made up of all of them. All the best bits.’

‘So it is something you made up in your mind?’

Hera was uncertain. ‘Possibly. Hey, what is this? I start to tell you the most important thing on my mind and you seem to want to make me doubt it, or make me feel that you don’t
believe me or something.’

‘No, it isn’t that. It is just that I saw you when you were unconscious, many times, and I listened to your cries. To me you were often afraid, though you did smile occasionally. The
last time I had to hold you down or you might have really hurt yourself.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. You were out of control. Thrashing about. Getting in a . . . lather. I wondered what that was all about. If I had not seen you, if I’d just heard you, I’d have
thought you were . . .’ He stopped. ‘Ahh, it makes no sense.’

‘Go on. You’d have thought I was what?’

He looked straight at her. ‘Making love.’

Hera’s face coloured. ‘Some things are hard to explain.’

‘So what did it do to you?’

‘Do? Nothing. It just stood there. Vulnerable, hurting, yearning . . .’ There was a long pause. Finally Hera said, ‘I don’t know what words to use. I was
overwhelmed.’ She hesitated. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I would make something like that up? I don’t know what happened. There was some brute force in the
air and I responded.’ She looked at him. ‘Women respond to a lot of things and a powerful sensual feeling is one of them. Surely men are like that too.’

‘Can’t speak for other men,’ said Mack, ‘but for myself I respond to a woman who is real and flesh and blood and able to love with everything she’s got and be a bit
crazy too. And who doesn’t have to imagine a monster tree to get her thrills.’

They sat looking at one another, appalled at how bad the situation had suddenly become between them. Finally Hera said, ‘I don’t think I’ve explained things very well. I wanted
to tell you about something quite lovely, but you wouldn’t let me. Not everything makes sense the first time you meet it, Mack. Look at you. You knew I was in need and you followed a hunch
and came to me. Does that make sense? Weren’t you carried away by a feeling? Why did you come to me? Why?’ Immediately she asked that, she wished she had bi en the words back. In the
moment of asking she suddenly knew the reason – call it a woman’s hunch. The idea that he might have done this from love frightened her.

‘It seemed a good idea at the time,’ said Mack, standing up. He too was out of his depth. He had said more than he meant and revealed more than he wanted. He was angry and confused
and felt a bit of a fool. ‘Perhaps now you are back on your feet, it’s time I got going.’

That night he moved out of the sick room to sleep in the SAS.

The next day they were polite to one another. The unfinished conversation was left unfinished. Hera walked to the terrace top and back to the shilo several times. Mack brought her
sandwiches.

Mack began to make plans to leave. Having repaired the cutter, he cruised out to where part of the crashed Demo Bus stuck up out of the water and recovered a few possessions – the small
radio for one thing.

It still worked. Sitting there in the boat, he contacted his team. He coped with their questions. Yes, he was OK. Yes, Hera had been in danger but now was fine. Yes, he would be back soon.
Evidently the cover-up they had planned was working well and he had not been missed. Mack signed off before there could be too many questions.

Hera, meanwhile, was preoccupied. She had found she could manage her ‘green’ times better. She discovered that, if she let her mind rest open and summoned up the image of the
Dendron’s huge arch, she could immediately feel its living presence. But beyond that she was uncertain and worried. She felt something was about to break, something ominous, and she made the
mistake of thinking that it was the Dendron. She knew there was something she needed to do, but what? What? Though the truth was staring her in the face, she was still not equipped to see it.

That evening they sailed a few miles round the lake, to a place where a flat rock jutted out into the still water. It was surrounded by a floating flower not unlike a lotus.
These plants, sometimes known as shyris or occasionally shut up shop, rose to the surface with the first light of dawn. Then they opened, their leaves flat on the water. Finally, when the sun
touched the buds, the flowers opened and fluttered like fans in a breeze. They stayed open for a few minutes only, and then shut up shop and dived again, only to reappear an hour or so later and
repeat their performance.

Hera was lying back enjoying the last of the sun. ‘Shall I cut my hair?’ she asked suddenly.

Mack did not look up. ‘Why do you want to cut your hair?’

‘I’m asking you a question, not telling you.’

‘It’s nice the way it is.’ They lapsed into silence. Finally, still without looking at her, Mack said, ‘How long have you had your hair long?’

‘Most of my life .’

‘Well then—’

‘But I’ve not
worn
it long, if you see what I mean.’

‘Well, wear it long now and see how it feels. If you don’t like it you can chop it off. But it’s nice hair.’ There was a pause.

Then Hera asked, shyly, ‘Will you brush it for me?’ Mack made to move and then stopped. ‘No, you can brush it yourself,’ he said. ‘It’ll be good
exercise.’

Hera was so surprised by this reply, so uncharacteristic of Mack, that she sat up and looked at him. ‘Are you all right, Mack? Are you still brooding on yesterday? Do you want us to sort
things out? We got things the wrong way round.’ She was surprised to see that his jaw was set in a way that made him look strained and angry. He looked straight at her.

‘I think you can cope now, don’t you? I’ll be leaving tomorrow.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Yep. Tomorrow. I’ll take your SAS back to New Syracuse, if that’s all right. I’m sure Alan’s clever enough to find his way back here.’

‘But why? Surely not because of—’

‘Like I say, you can cope now. And I think you’ve found what you wanted down here, and there’s not much need of me now. Maybe you’ll meet your Dendron and . . .’ He
reached down and picked up the radio.

‘And what?’

‘And I hope you’re both very happy.’

‘Mack!’ He did not look up. ‘Mack, please. You can’t leave now.’ He still did not look up. ‘Mack. Please. Look at me.’ He did look at her then, and for
the first time she really saw the hurt on his face. ‘Mack, you can’t leave. Not now.’

‘I can. I will.’

‘But Mack, there’s so much I want to tell you. When I’ve got things sorted out in my head, I thought we might work together. Might work like . . .’ She was lost for
words. ‘Like a team.’

‘Aye. Well I have a team, thank you, and they are waiting for me right now, up there. They put themselves on the line for me, so I could come down here. Come to help you. Well, I’ve
done my bit, so now I’m off back. If you’re getting fed up with this place you can contact Captain Whatserface up top and she’ll come and get you. Me? I’ll make my own way.
Alone.’ It was the longest speech he had made for a long time. And when he had finished, he stood up, extended the short aerial and switched the radio on. Distinctly they could hear it
tracking and then locking onto its wavelength.

They heard Polka’s voice respond, small and distant. ‘Hello, Mack, is that you? Come in, please.’

All he had to do was open the transmission.

They travelled back from the long flat rock in silence. Both were left with their thoughts.

Mack retired early to the SAS. Hera went for a walk in the woods.

In the morning Hera made sure she was up first. When Mack climbed out of the SAS he found a table spread in the clearing above the lake. Breakfast was waiting and coffee was
fresh and steaming. Hera was sitting, her hair pinned back tightly and wearing a lightweight unisex meshlite overall. ‘I thought we ought to talk before you went,’ she said without
turning, and poured him a coffee.

Mack sighed. He had half-expected this, and feared it. ‘You’re too clever for me,’ he said finally. ‘Too clever with words. I don’t know what to do or what to think
when you get talking. It’s best I go. But I wish you well. I’m not angry now. It just . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Take care of yourself, Hera. Don’t go waltzing with no
Tattersalls. OK?’ He ignored the coffee, turned and walked towards the SAS.

‘Mack,’ called Hera, ‘could you just do one thing before you go? There’s a box I want down from the supply room. It’s one of the blue vacuum cases. It’s got
some seed boxes and incubators I need. It’s too high for me, and too heavy. Could you get it down before you go, and bring it out here?’

Mack stopped, looked at her, shrugged and then nodded. He headed into the shilo.

Minutes later when he came out with the box, which was indeed heavy, he found Hera sitting where he had left her. She still had her back to him and was gazing out across Big Fella Lake. The sun
was making the surface steam and, round the shore, the lake was turning purple where the shut up shop were just opening.

‘See you,’ called Mack, and he headed for the SAS.

A few moments later she heard him speak to the machine asking the doors to open. Then she heard the sound of his fist hitting the side of the SAS. Five minutes drifted past, and she heard him
approach and come round the table to face her.

‘The door is locked. Alan’s not answering.’

‘I know. I’ve told him not to answer you. And I have hidden the override control where you will never find it. It’s the only thing I could do to stop you. And now I want you to
sit down and listen to me. There are things I need to explain. Things I didn’t understand myself until last night. So, please sit down, and when I have finished, you will be free to go. I
promise.’ Mack paused and closed his eyes for a few seconds, as though strengthening his resolve or counting to ten to keep his temper in check. Then he eased himself into the chair facing
her. He put his hands flat down on the table in front of him in the manner of a card player who does not want to be accused of cheating and looked directly at her.

‘There is one other thing,’ added Hera. ‘I do not want you to interrupt. No questions, just listen. Agreed?’

Mack nodded, a short jerk of the head.

‘I think last night . . . yesterday . . .’ There was a long pause, and then Hera took a deep breath, and said quietly, ‘I think I have grown up a bit, Mack. I’m
experiencing things I’ve never known before so . . . so, please forgive me if I get things wrong. I’m feeling my way and trying just to let my heart speak – the way you do.
Sometimes, you know, I’m too clever. I’ve always been clever. Clever at maths. Clever in debate. Top of the class. I think I learned to use being clever as a protection – I can
see that now – but being too clever is the same as getting things wrong, isn’t it? It is not allowing someone else to be right. So, now I’m down there, Mack, where all ladders
start, in the foul— Sorry. I’m being clever again. Just listen and don’t judge Hera too quickly. Now I want to start with a drawing.’ Hera placed a piece of paper between
them. On it she drew a circle and then within it another circle which just touched the inside of the outer one. ‘This was something my dad used to do. When he had something he found difficult
to explain, he used to do drawings – he often used circles. Just look at it while I’m talking.

‘There are a lot of things I can’t explain, a lot of things I do not know, but I have to start somewhere. And I am going to start with that wonderful, brilliant, courageous hunch of
yours which brought you down here and which saved my life. No one does something like that without a strong reason, and the strong reason you did that is because you had fallen in love with me. No,
no, no. Please don’t get up. We have an agreement and if you do not like my choice of words I can’t help that. I’m not playing games. The stakes are too high for me. I can’t
find a better word, and I have tried. And it is as difficult for me to say as it is for you to hear. You are the lucky one, believe it or not. Anyway, what was it that triggered that love into
action? It was when I was hurt, wasn’t it? That was the moment. And you knew it. And, because you are the man you are, you didn’t just take a pill and go back to sleep or go out and get
drunk or something. You acted out of the goodness—’