Pearced (30 page)

TC: “You have a dirty mind” but, so have I

PF: “Got enough underwear?  The good stuff??” She does have a point.

TC: “I repeat the last message” but won’t let on.

PF: “Take care, weren’t you competing Sunday?” Blimey, she remembers.

TC: “Yes, but the boys could do with a rest” I lie, but they do like relaxing.

PF: “Liar” gotcha!

TC: “Funny girl” she is.

PF: “Meet me for lunch before you go” not a question.

Pete Fraser works in advertising, the upside is she knows everyone and everywhere and the downside is she knows everyone and everywhere. She can’t escape her job, because people is her job, we can’t go anywhere without her being recognised.  It sounds cool, but it's not. Pete has a subtle exotic look, shiny poker straight black hair, I’d kill for, a tiny frame with delicate features. A little oriental, and a high-end designer budget.  Her wardrobe is stuffed to the ceiling with beautiful clothing from Bond Street: handbags, shoes, dresses, and some are give-aways, ‘thank you’s’ and promotions because of her job.  You want a front row ticket to the new happening gig?  She can get it, with a back-stage pass and champagne reception thrown in, Soho House begged her to join with a tempting lifetime membership and zero fees...it's all I'm saying. The woman is connected.

We’re out for lunch, and we chose our anonymous sandwich bar for an organic brie and cranberry sandwich.  Wearing last season’s Chanel bouclé black mini dress, buckle boots and leather biker, her collection is extensive.  Some vintage inherited pieces from her Mum who was a model in the early 80’s, including an Hermes clutch, tobacco brown with a long cross-body strap and ‘H’ gold metalware, to die for. The very fact I can covet something that's not black, just demonstrates how lovely it is.  From this very bag Pete pulls her phone, and concentrates hard on the screen, I’d love to have that bag, she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows in surprise, well, it’s not black, is it? Maybe she’d let me borrow it?

“It’s James” she tells me, “he wants to meet me for a drink.” She looks so excited how could I spoil this moment for my friend, especially if I ever need an Hermes handbag for a date.

“Now?” I ask surprised, she nods still looking at the handset and fingering a response, a drink indeed. “Do it Pete, I’ll have my sandwich at the office.” I’m a little disappointed of course, but I do have things to do, and bits to collate for the trip.

“Sure?” She asks. ”He wants to tell me about a family trip thing, and he’s asked me if I’m free this weekend for a getaway.” She winks at me obviously deliriously happy.

“Go.” I order, “I’ve got to be at the airport later anyway. We hug, and say good bye.

As she walks away from me, my phone beeps.

EC: “Your brother at least calls me, and he’s on the road on tour” I could be Gandhi and Harry would be a better child than me.

TC: “OK Mum, sorry I’ve been busy” not a lie.

EC: “Dinner at the weekend then?  Or are you busy with the horses?” Has she forgotten so soon?

TC: “I’m away Mum, but I’ll see you when I’m back” remember?

EC: “Quell surprise!” She’s not happy, I’ll make it up to her.

I pack up my sandwich and a take-away cup of famously good hot chocolate, grab a black cab to the office, and suddenly wish I’d opted for the tea.

Knew that was coming,
didn't you?

Chapter twenty-one, Thursday
:
31thoctober2013, journeyers landed

Lazy thin rain is sprinkling down on us as we get into the car to the airport.  A hushed tone falls over this crew of almost strangers as we all consider what journey into the unknown we are about to embark upon.   The grey sky feels cold now, and I’d put rain macs on my horses this morning very early before I left, their neck covers on for added protection.  I have left an extensive list of instructions for Jinni and several phone numbers to call in case of emergencies, I suspect we may have signal problems, and plan for it.

TC: “Jinni, remember you can call me any-time day or night” please do.

JG: “Thanks, you're not my only neurotic customer you know?” she does this for a living, true story.

TC: “I know I’m bad J, but I love those boys” another true story.

JG: “I know, don't worry, they'll be fine” hope so.

Actually she's brilliant with them, but that doesn't stop me getting tight across the chest with anxiety when I have to leave them, you can just never tell what they'll get up to can you? Girls? Poker?

Bloody hell, I don't want to think about it.

On board our aircraft, a rather swanky private plane, I sit in my seat, lip balm, iPhone, Bose headphones, bottle of Evian, Asimov Foundations Trilogy, everything I need within a grasp away including a man I rather like.  

TC: “Turning off my phone now, see you when I’m home.” see? I can be a good daughter.

EC: “Don't forget to switch it back on, I may need to call you” OK

TC: “Love you” true.

EC: “Bring me back a fridge magnet” bloody hell, llama shaped I bet.

EC: “You know, I love llamas” did she tell me that already?

Mothers!

The whole plane at our disposal and Daniel sits next to me.    He smells incredible and I wonder what twenty hours flying, with stoppages and refuelling, sitting so close to this amazing man, this sexy creature, will do to my usual long-haul plan of sleeping the whole way.    It’s because I get bored, not that I like to sleep…..but I really
do
like to sleep.  He stretches for his water and the shirt he’s wearing strains over his body, I can’t stop looking, at him, he’s so gorgeous.

Enter at C collected trot.

A tide is turning, a storm is coming, I can feel it, a current in the air and a change in atmosphere. Crackling with static and a warm feeling of sedation too.  He smiles at me as he takes a seductive mouthful of water, actually it's just a mouthful but the nuance is in the eye of the beholder right?  And I suddenly hurt in my body with pleasure, I want those lips on me too.   I can’t shake the feeling; I sit and try to suffer the feeling lapping over my senses as if to tease me more.  Get a grip Tharie, for heaven’s sake.

Halt at X salute.

During the very long flight we have a large blanket over our laps, it's quite chilly as both of us like the blowers on, I’ve never met anybody else who does.  Trying to be discreet we fondle each other throught the whole flight, it feels amazing, getting away with it, plus, usually plane journeys are quite tedious! ...apart from the tea of course.

But that depends on the airline.

And whether it’s ceramic or a plastic cup.

So many things to consider.

How did life get this complicated?

Peru is hot, humidity is high, the food at the airport is terrible and the officious simp checking our visas smells bad too.  I am weary to my bones. We don’t speak much once we land either, we are all suffering with fatigue, and barely manage grunts and nods as we pile into the vehicle.  Our flat-bed truck pulls round a corner, keeping in the dried ruts of the unmade road, it must rain heavily at some time in the year.  We rattle about over the rough terrain for three and a half hours, until our driver slows and pulls into what to a casual observer looks like a track no wider than a footpath.   But tearing through the bushes and overhanging branches I notice there is once a wider path here, another illusion, and it's just overgrown from lack of use. 

The driver and his companion speak in Spanish to each-other, one nods and as the vehicle slows over a mound in the way he jumps out and closes the door behind him.  Our car stops, the little man reaches out of the window and outside brushes away some foliage from what looks like a wooden box mounted eye height for him on a post.  Inside a glowing button is depressed and ahead of us, totally invisible to any of us a massive section of forest slides smoothly away to the left.  Our guide finishes and we drive through and onto a wide sweeping gravel driveway fronting what I would describe as a huge colonial looking house with white wood fascia. Needs weeding that driveway, but I keep my horticultural expertise to myself.

“Wow,” from Liza in the back, Daniel, this is your family’s house?” She asks in awe, leaning forward in her seat for a better look.

“Yes, there's been a house here in my family for centuries, we come here now and then.  I used to come a lot when my tattoo mystery freaked me out and I needed to disappear.”  Daniel leaps out before the car is perfectly stopped and begins letting us all out, looking quite relaxed and happy, and gorgeous of course.

Nigel grabs his old taupe canvas bag, shoves it under his arm, the strap is long broken.  “I’d like to start by getting all my research organised.” He slides his spectacles back up his nose, “and everything I need packed for our search if there's somewhere for me to work Daniel?” asks the Professor.  He's tired like all of us and I make a mental note to remember he's older than the rest of us and may need more time to recover from the jet-lag. I'll be wrong about that too, wait and see.

“Yes Doc, you can use my study.” Daniel offers pointing to its position in the house, “and I’ll make us all some tea?” There are whoops of joy all-round at the mention of tea, we haven’t had a descent cup since leaving London, the refreshments at the airport were unspeakable.  So we don’t speak about it.

The front door opens with a smaller version of Daniels 'universal' remote. “Don't you like keys?” I ask him, shaking my head and smiling. Boys and their gadgets eh?  Inside it's quite dark as the forest has begun taking over the outside of the house and leaves and branches grow over the windows. 

“Keys are fine, but this can do lots more than just open doors.” Daniel tells us. Can it make tea? I ask to myself, likely not.

Its dim light outside because of the jungle creeping close to the building, but as the door swings completely open the whole place lights up.  Like a dot to dot picture the sunlight hits a complex series of mirrors all around the ground floor before it heads upstairs.  I try to remember the speed of light but fail, the whole inside of the house is now gleaming white and bright. It bugs me and I Google it: 299,792,458 metres per second, happier now.

“Amazing,” says Liza “energy free lights.”

“Yes, my father installed these years ago, we often lose power out here, and they are controlled by computer that has its own generator, directed by motors to point them in the right direction.  They are everywhere, so no matter which way the sun is facing, there’s a group of mirrors plotted around the house to reflect the free light all over the inside.”  Sounding so proud. “Of course it doesn’t work after nightfall, that’s when the power generated by the solar panels take over.

“Genius.” said the professor, “though, he could have just used the generator to light bulbs instead of power motors eh?” Exactly what I am thinking, spooky. “But, that wouldn’t be as much fun. Wonder if your Dad watched too many Indiana Jones movies? ....me too.” he laughs nodding.  It feels calm and we all seem to have arrived in good spirits despite the lengthy journey and the possibility that all this planning and packing will amount to nothing, as every previous search has done. Just being in this extraordinary country is like an adventure in itself.

TC: “Landed and safe, hot and sweaty” true story.

PF: “Glad, having fun so soon, I’m proud” nut-case.

TC: “You have a filthy mind” who doesn’t?

PF: “Your Mum called me” oh god.

TC: “I’m sorry, you’ll have to get a new phone, and change your number” it’s like a spy game.

PF: “No need, she wanted me to know she worries about you” of course she does, that’s her job.

TC: “Always worrying about something” does she know what Henry gets up to on tour? I hope not.

PF: “You know, even
I’ve
shagged your brother!” How does she do that? ...and what!?

TC: “We’ll discuss this when I’m home” they would make very beautiful children, is all I'm saying people. Stop thinking about it Tharie.

The elders are right, ignorance is bliss.

I shut my phone down once more, and connect with the living bodies around me, not those intangible entities from text land.  We sit together around a huge wooden table on the patio running along the whole back of the house, drinking tea, and making plans.  Stan is naturally in charge of safety and survival all his moves seem automatic and practised.  Comfortable with being in charge, he is packing all our equipment and checking our car is in good condition. The professor is packing his maps and sketches, cleaning his glasses periodically, and collecting and sorting his many photos of Daniels body.

Note to self, get a copy of those photos. Porn with a personal touch. Bloody hell Tharie, stop it!

He also has plans, maps, notebooks and the photographs of the drawings left to Daniel when he was young, overlaid onto his body to complete the picture.  The professor had discovered the drawings, sketched in ink on very old but quite transparent paper, had a further meaning.  He had quite accidentally overlaid the flimsy sheets onto the photos, and became another puzzle piece.  After much study he overlaid all the drawings together on a light box with a few printouts of Daniels tattoos, and he found a link.  But only by placing them over Daniels living 3D body was the whole tale told, as it matched with designs on his neck.  The drawings fitted perfectly over Daniels skull and face, traced down his neck and arm, then onto the fingers of his right hand palm up, they made a good guess at how Daniels body would grow.