Friday in Summer

When my father died, the worst thing was his absence. Where he used to be in the world, there was now an emptiness, and wherever I went in the world, I would never ever find the person who had filled that emptiness. Now, when the lights went out in the world that my father had died to save, that awareness of absence returned. We had been here less than a day, but the presence that was implicit in the light had been all-pervading, and her absence was like the withdrawal of air. McKenzie should have warned us, but I had a feeling that his experience of this world was different.

‘How long will the dark last?’ I asked the woman as she turned back from Janice.

Until the light comes again. This is the curse: There was light, now there is dark, and then there will be light. We do not understand this, we just suffer it.

More of the mystery was exposed. I wished I understood what she meant. I knew I needed to if I were to finish my father’s work. This mystery preoccupied me until we were settled for the night in the sleeping house. It was only when I was lying down that I realised I hadn’t paid attention to our approach into their village.

I supposed we were in the village because, waking from my preoccupation, I saw that the empty mattresses to either side of me and across the central aisle at my feet numbered about twenty. A bit late I made some observations for future reference: The sleeping house had a pitched roof, covered in wide strips of woven leaves. These, and the wall panels of the same design, were tied to wooden uprights by the ubiquitous rope. No metal industry then. The wood did appear to have been dressed and was lightly carved with geometric shapes and inlaid with stones. The floor under the mattresses (cotton-like cover, stuffed with a soft and fragrant leaf) was earth with a mat of woven strips of what looked like flax. A blanket was not necessary, but I was lying on a clean sheet of the same material as the clothing.

I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, looking at the patterns created by alternating black and white strips in the roof, consciously recalling our arrival and disposal once we had arrived here.

We had been walking on the flat when the woman in charge had suddenly called, almost singing: We are returning. We are eight. Of this place four, with overlanders four. The thief and his companions, with one of Friday’s line.

We entered the main avenue of the village between a dozen smaller buildings. These were just dark boxes to my preoccupied mind. Other people old and young came out to see the thief and his companions. They glanced at the three of us humans, but it was Jasper who got all the attention. The name she gave him did not connect with a meaning in the translations my mind provided. With this unworthy man has come Jasper. The dog-person who will break the curse. The Source will set him free and he will save us from the Overlanders.

So while Jasper was taken away to some more venerable place, we three were taken to the sleeping house. There was no more nor less light inside the building than there had been outside. Strange but true. Under protest, McKenzie was tied to an upright at the farthest mattress from the door. Janice and I were given the two mattresses closest to the centre pole. The captor whose clothes I wore said to us: You will remain here until the judgment.

I shrugged at Janice and lay down to further consider the information I had received. My brain was reeling, but I knew I had to make sense of it all if I was to be any use.

Janice however, wanted to talk. ‘Hamish said something back on the track. I think he knows …. Are you listening Dodger?’ When I proved unwilling, she moved up to talk with McKenzie.

I had seen McKenzie turning on the charm with her. Although Janice was not my type, I didn’t like the thought of one of my oldest friends falling for the glib show McKenzie had perfected. The eye contact. The focussed attention. The leaning towards. Ugh, my concentration was broken. I listened to what was being said:

‘Thing about their ropes is that a knot once tied can not be broken. It looks simple, but only the person who tied a knot can untie it, but have a go if you want.’

I saw Janice turn her attention to the knot on the pole, while McKenzie sat back and did that thing with his eyes. It wasn’t quite undressing her, but it was certainly inviting mutual undressing. Too much.

‘McKenzie. Why do you come here?’ I asked as I lowered myself onto the mattress next to him. At least he turned to look at me.

‘Because I can.’ I thought I glimpsed something honest in his eyes. It wasn’t coming out his mouth though.

Janice joined in the conversation, having given up on the knot. ‘I can’t imagine not coming here if I could. It’s like, paradise.’

‘Yeah. My dad brought me first when I was about thirteen. I’d been in a really rough rugby game against Berona and I had a scholarship exam the next day. I’d had my ankle broken and was in a lot of pain. He said a day in here would put me right. Sure enough, as soon as I got here, the broken bone set itself and all my aches and pains disappeared. Since then I’ve been back quite a few times, although Dad has pretty well stopped coming. He says he feels too guilty.’ He looked as though this might have been more than he had meant to say.

Janice picked up on it. ‘What did he do?’

But McKenzie, predictably, clamped up. I could have told her, or at least told her some of the history of my father and Mr McKenzie, but then I remembered how she had reacted to hearing about my dad’s death. The rest of the story was well beyond her ken.

McKenzie looked at me. ‘If I could change things I would. If I could stop the Clan, I’d do it at the drop of a hat.’

A new voice could be heard from the doorway. The interpretation in my head carried the speaker’s discounting of McKenzie’s declaration: You can not change things; you can only return what your father took. You can’t stop the rape of the seed. You can only return what was stolen. I turned to see the new speaker. There in the doorway was a woman not much older than our captor, but who carried an assurance of power around her like a cloak.

Slowly she walked towards us as McKenzie voiced his frustration: ‘My father said that Jock took nothing.’

The woman was calm and unmoved by his protests. You are not Jock’s son. We have told your sire before. You are the thief’s young.

‘No! I am Hamish McKenzie. I am a fifth generation descendant of James McKenzie. We have records of the dispute with Rhodes.’ Hamish was beside himself with rage, and didn’t notice Janice’s reaction to the mention of her name. I warned her with a look.
Hamish didn’t notice, but as she moved towards us I saw her sharp eyes look at Janice. I remembered that the voice of the Valley had not allowed the villagers to know the whole prophecy, so thought I would be cautious and continue to keep our names under wraps. But the woman was going to make that difficult I could see.

She continued to speak to Hamish, but I knew we had been filed as worth investigating next. The Owner’s dispute with Jock was of a different nature. Your nature is to steal. You are the Thief’s spawn. She turned to Janice. And you, whose spawn are you?

The woman stretched out a hand as if to lift Janice’s hair. She stopped as she noticed the thread of gold that disappeared under Janice’s shirt and held the incriminating stone. I reached forward and pulled Janice towards me.

‘We followed the dog.’ I said. ‘All we want is to get home again.’ I hoped Janice would play along. So long as McKenzie said nothing, I thought we could get away with it. She more than complied. As I pulled her onto my chest, she threw her arms around my neck and started sobbing. A little over the top I thought, but the woman sneered at such weakness.

You may have to return without your pet. She almost spat the last word.

From the doorway I heard a soft whine. These are my friends. Do not trouble them. Jasper came towards us down the middle aisle. I had always been jealous of Janice’s having a dog like Jasper. My dad said that the Douglass’s never had dogs. He sympathised with me when he learned that my best friend in Year 4, who lived up the street, had a border collie. He said. ‘Some things aren’t fair, but with a bit of luck they could turn out right.’ It felt right that Jasper should be here, and that I should be also.

The border collies I had seen working sheep were noble-looking dogs. They looked like creatures that knew their worth and enjoyed the lives they lived. Jasper in this land had that look, and something more. He looked as though he had made choices, and was happy with them.

I unconsciously hugged Janice a little tighter. This also felt right.

The boss-lady acquiesced to Jasper’s command. The light will soon be here. She informed us. Although we do not need to sleep, we find a time of rest beneficial when the light is not with us. Please retire. McKenzie held up his hands tied in front of him. She spoke to him. You will remain at this end of the Big House. You two return to the places given to you.

Janice and I stood and returned to our mattresses. Jasper placed himself between us as we lay down, placing his head on my mattress, looking me in the eye. I had no intention of sleeping, and no desire either. Nothing was said. I looked toward Janice. She looked at Jasper with pain in her eye, as if she had been betrayed. She started to say something, but people were coming into the sleeping house and settling for the night.

I felt curiously at peace and laid a hand on Jasper’s head. He closed his eyes. I looked at Janice and smiled ruefully. Eventually she smiled back. I didn’t think I would sleep but no time seemed to pass before the world was again filled with the presence of the voice of the Valley.