Chapter 7
Puck's Dell, Stumblefrith Forest, Wealdshire. Sunday 10 May 1998
'The tea's brewed! Get up you idle pixies!'
Shadow grunted, forced his eyelids open, and blinked against the early morning sunlight. 'Who's making that din?' he mumbled to himself.
'I can't drink all this tea on my own you know? Come on. Shake a leg — or anything else that needs shaking. Perhaps I ought to come and shake it for you.'
It's Martha, Shadow realised. In less than a minute he'd hauled some clothes on and staggered out to the kitchen area.
'Good morning, Shadow,' was the bright and breezy greeting. 'Did you miss me?'
Shadow smiled and wondered whether he ought to tell Martha McKenzie just how much he had missed her the previous day. 'Well . . .' he started.
'I thought as much. You children just can't cope when Auntie Martha goes home for a couple of days.'
'Is everything all right at home?' Shadow asked.
Martha nodded. 'Yes. George's leg was playing him up a bit but he'll survive. He said he didn't want me fussing round him when I was needed far more at Puck's Dell.' She looked quizzically at Shadow. 'I take it that I am needed here?'
'Of course you are. You're a wonderful influence. The sight of an . . .'
'Old biddy?'
'No! I wasn't going to say that!' Shadow lied and, knowing that Martha knew he was lying, couldn't avoid a tinge of red rising to his cheeks. 'I was going to say that the sight of a mature woman leaping around in the tree tops is a tonic to all of us. You set us a good example and . . . well, everyone behaves much more sensibly when you're around.' He decided to tell her how morale had been low the day before. 'We could have done with having you here yesterday. It was the rain . . . it made everyone a bit depressed. I know you would have cheered us all up.'
Martha took a sip of her tea. 'Well, maybe,' she said. 'If an ex-drama teacher can't pretend she enjoys sitting in wet clothes in a draughty forest, who can?' Martha decided to change the subject. 'What's happening today, then? Have you got anything exciting planned?'
'As it happens — yes. There'll be an invasion of the respectables some time this morning.'
'Oh dear,' said Martha in mock horror, 'I forgot to bring my best dress back with me.'
The invasion started at 10.45 precisely. With Martha on site, everyone had decided to get up early and make themselves as presentable as possible for the visitors. (In the majority of cases this amounted to little more than pouring water over grubby hands, wiping porridge from sweatshirts, and picking dried mud from jeans.) Shadow had almost completed building his bender when he spotted a motley group of people making their way through the trees. He had made a frame by pushing hazel branches into the ground on opposite sides of a square and then bending them over and tying them in pairs to make a row of arches. He had woven more branches in and out of the arches so that the frame was as rigid as possible. All he had to do now was throw a tarpaulin over the frame and weight the edges down with rocks. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Shadow wandered over to meet the visitors.
'Morning everyone,' he called. 'I'm glad to see you've brought some sunshine with you.'
'That's not all we've brought,' replied Vera Day, an elderly woman who, as she needed to use a walking stick, had been allowed to set the pace. 'We've got enough goodies here to keep you going for a fortnight,' she said, holding up a Sainsbury's plastic bag with her free hand.
'That's really kind of you,' said Shadow with a genuine look of gratitude on his face. 'We can't thank you enough for all you're doing for us.'
'You are a very foolish young man,' came the retort.
Shadow's expression changed to one of bewilderment as he wondered what he could possibly have done to deserve such an epithet.
Vera Day continued, 'You shouldn't be thanking us — it's us that should be thanking you.'
'What do you mean?' asked a still-puzzled Shadow.
Having reached him now, Vera Day leant on her stick, looked Shadow in the eye, and said, 'Listen. All we've done is bring you a few essentials. We will stay and have a chat and then we will go home to our lovely warm houses, sink into our comfortable armchairs, and feel very pleased with ourselves for having done our little bit to help save the environment. You, however, are living here every day and every night, preparing to do battle with thugs and hooligans, chaining yourself to trees and lying in front of bulldozers, so that we'll still have somewhere to take our doggies for walkies. That's why we should be thanking you!'
Shadow looked down at the ground to try to hide his embarrassment while a rousing chorus of cheers arose from the army of supporters standing behind Vera. Finally, he looked up and said, 'You're very kind. We really do appreciate your support. You probably don't realise just how much it means to us. And, of course, you're very important to us. The authorities like to make out that we are wasters and dole scroungers. You help to give us respectability.'
'Well I don't feel very respectable at the moment,' said Vera Day, using her stick to remove a clod of earth from one of her Wellington boots. 'Come on. Let's go and find a home for all this stuff before our arms drop off.'
A few minutes later. the contents of plastic bags and rucksacks had been emptied onto a tarpaulin near the kitchen area and separated into edible and non-edible items. 'There's enough here to feed an army,' gasped Falcon as he pulled his dreadlocks away from his face to get a better look at the heap of cans, bags of vegetables and various packets of food.
'But you are an army!' shouted a tall, grey-haired man. 'I would have welcomed any of you into my regiment a few years ago,' he continued, 'although I may have insisted that you paid a visit to the barber first.'
Falcon laughed and swept his dreadlocks back in front of his face. 'Instant camouflage, Major.'
Hooter was bending down and examining the stack of non-food items. He sniffed and then said 'Socks. Great. All of mine are rotting away.' He picked up a bright red pair and asked, 'Does anyone mind if I take these?'
Misty reached down and picked up a pair of white handkerchiefs. Handing them to Hooter she whispered, 'You'd better take these as well.'
'Where do you want us to put everything?' asked one of the women.
'I'll show you,' came a voice from somewhere above.
All heads turned upwards to see who had spoken — and many mouths dropped open in surprise as they watched Martha rapidly sliding down a rope into their midst. 'I've just been checking the rope walkways,' she explained. 'I have to make sure I can get to Bounce's house — in case he needs me to read him a bedtime story.' She turned to look at Bounce and gave him a wink.
'Yeah. That's right,' he said in a deep, gruff voice. 'I have to get my Noddy fix before I can go to sleep.'
Bounce — huge and hairy — looked the sort of person that most people would hate to meet in the middle of a crowded room let alone a forest at night. His bushy beard covered most of his ruddy face, there was barely an inch of his arms that wasn't covered with tattoos, a bandanna was tied around his head, and he looked as if he would be more at home astride a Harley-Davidson than living in the forest with a bunch of pixies.
Martha gave him a huge smile and said, 'Actually, it's Bounce who looks after me. He stepped in once when a couple of goons were threatening to put me in hospital and 'persuaded' them that it was time they went off for their lunch.'
Bounce guffawed, slapped his thighs with a loud smack, and said, 'I wasn't saving you, lady — I was worried about what you might do to them!'
There was laughter all round and then — silence. No-one was quite sure what to say or do next. Remembering that she was the one who had interrupted proceedings, Martha clapped her hands and said, 'Let's get these supplies put away.'
'Good idea,' said Shadow, 'Then, if anyone wants to look inside a bender, I expect the scruffbags will be pleased to give you a guided tour. I'm building a new bender over there.' He pointed towards his hazel frame. 'So if you wander over, you can see how it's constructed. — What else?' he asked, more to himself than anyone else.'
'Lock-ons?' suggested Tixie.
'Oh yes,' said Shadow, nodding at the tall, dark-skinned girl with green hair who was crouching down by the fire. 'Tixie is our lock-on expert. She'll show you how to handcuff yourself to a block of concrete in the ground or up a tree so that it would take hours for the goons to remove you — assuming that any of you would actually want to do that, of course.'
'Don't forget the garden,' added GW (so-called because he was a great fan of the television gardening programme Gardeners' World which, due to his commitment to the road protest, he hadn't seen for some time).
'As if I would!' laughed Shadow. 'GW is very proud of his garden. It's over there where the trees have been cleared.' He pointed to an ugly scar where a large number of trees had been cut down with chainsaws. 'At least we can make some good use of the land before . . .' He was about to say, 'Before the road-builders move in.'
GW rescued him from his predicament. 'Before we have to move on to save another bit of countryside from the bulldozers.'
Shadow nodded his thanks to GW. 'Do you want to tell everyone what you're growing there?'
GW turned to face the visitors, none of whom showed the slightest surprise at seeing that he had a ring in his lip and his face was covered with painted designs. 'Lettuces are good,' he said, 'because they grow quickly and because they'll grow most of the year, especially if we cover them with cloches. Then we've got carrots, onions, a few rows of potatoes, some tomato plants — and a herb garden.'
A man wearing a cloth cap put his hand on GW's arm. 'I've got a few spare courgette plants in my greenhouse. I¯ll bring them later in the week — if you want them.'
'Excellent! Yes please,' said GW. 'If any of you have any spare veggie plants we can make good use of them. As you can see,' he said, surveying the area of destruction, 'unfortunately we have rather a large garden.'
This started a hubbub of conversation amongst the visitors as all the gardeners in their number began to talk about the seedlings and plants which they could bring for the vegetable plot. Shadow held up his arms and called out, 'Feel free to have a good look round, everyone, and if anyone wants a cup of something, just help yourself. There'll be a pot of tea and a jug of coffee by the fire. Both made with fresh water so don't worry about catching something unpleasant.'
The visitors began to disperse and Shadow made his way to his bender. He was soon joined by a small group who wanted to see how the homes were made. Shadow showed them how the frame was constructed and explained that hazel provided the best material because it could be bent without breaking. Then he spread the tarpaulin over the frame and started placing large stones around the edges to hold the tarpaulin firmly in place. When his audience had thanked him, and wandered off to look for other items of interest, Shadow transferred his few belongings from his old home to the new bender. During his journeys he was intrigued by the snatches of conversation which he heard between the pixies and the visitors.
'. . . if you have some washing that you'd like done, I'd be quite happy to take some home with me.'
'. . . I know you call yourselves pixies. It's a charming name and I think it suits you perfectly, but is there any special reason?'
'Pixies live in the forest. Pixies don't do anyone any harm. They live in harmony with the environment — and we try to do the same. We even feel like pixies. But we don't sit on toadstools.'
'. . . oh no, none of us eat meat. If anyone spent a week with us they'd never want to eat meat again. We have some really good meals — curries, nut roasts, stews, salads . . .'
'. . . not sure who the goons are. Are they the security guards?'
'Yeah. Goons or yellow-jackets. We have other names as well, but I won't tell you what those are!'
'. . . a pity you haven't got a big bender.'
'It's on the list of things to do. We'd really like a communal bender so that we've got somewhere cosy to entertain visitors.'
'. . . that's right, we are like the ancient Celts. We celebrate Nature and believe that everything in Nature deserves respect whether human, animal, plant, river or rock. We believe that you should be allowed to do whatever you like as long as you don't harm anyone or anything.'
'. . . I've taken a year off from university to be here, Jazz has given up her job as a dentist . . .'
'. . . and water?'
'We get drinking water from a house nearby. Carry it here in large containers — and use it sparingly! We fetch washing water from a stream — and boil it thoroughly before we use it.'
'. . . the bailiffs, accompanied by the goons and police, will move in to evict us from the site. That probably won't be a for a few weeks, though. What we have to do like, is make it as difficult as possible for them to get us out.'
'. . . oh no. Absolutely no violence. You've gotta control yourself even when you're provoked. If you hit someone you can undo a lot of the good work. The enemy would love to be able to say that we're violent. They're the only ones that do any thumping — but these days they only do that when they're sure no-one is looking . . .'
'. . . dancing on a digger is a totally mystical experience. You see all those uniformed guys looking up at you and they have this strange look in their eyes — it's like they can see you've got the power — and they can't understand where you get it from. If we said that it comes from within us — that we draw energy from our Mother, the Earth — they'd just have this totally blank expression. They wouldn't understand . . .'
'. . . if you reach into this hole in the concrete you'll feel a steel bar. If you have something tied around your wrist you can clip it onto the bar and no-one will be able to pull you away. This one is buried in the ground but if you make a lock-on in a tree, by filling an old oil drum with concrete, it's even harder for them to get you out. They have to clamber up the tree with a hammer chisel . . .'
'. . . have you ever been arrested?'
'Yeah. Just the once. I thought the best thing I could do was cooperate with the police, be nice to them and so on — admit I'd broken the law. So they let me off with a caution. I think a lot of police sympathise with us, and, if we can save them a bit of paperwork, they're happy to let us go. They're not the enemy anyway. There's no point in getting locked up instead of getting back to fight the real enemy.'
Just as Shadow had finished moving his belongings and was about to join the others, he heard someone calling his name. It was Jerry.
'Hi,' he called. 'I see the well-wishers have turned up.'
'Yeah. Thanks for arranging that, Jerry. They've brought loads of stuff — and given us all a bit of a boost. We could do with a bit more hardware, though. Any chance of rustling up a few odds and ends?'
Jerry nodded. 'I should think so. What are you after?'
'I've got a list here,' he said, digging in his pocket and extracting a folded sheet of paper which he handed to Jerry. 'I've underlined the most urgent items — clips for lock-ons, plastic pipes to embed in the concrete, a couple of water bottles, another axe, a tarpaulin, and — what was the other thing? — Oh yeah, a hammer. Spider Girl managed to lose one by dropping it down inside a hollow tree.'
Jerry scanned the list and said, 'I should be able to get most of these things. Well, it won't be me. Winston seems to have the gift when it comes to getting his hands on stuff.' Slipping the list into his inside pocket he said, 'You wanted a meet.'
Shadow combed his hair with his fingers before saying, 'I've been thinking. It might be a good idea if we have a strategy meeting. We get lots of crazy ideas in our heads when we're sitting round the camp fire and I'd really like to get some objective input from those who aren't directly involved.'
'Who do you want there?' asked Jerry.
'I'll leave it to you, mate. Just make sure it's a good cross section of people. People who are keen to think up action plans. And I'll find out which of the pixies want to be involved.'
'Where?'
'Where what?' asked Shadow.
'Where do you want the meeting?'
'Oh yeah,' Shadow laughed. I suppose it would be sensible to arrange a time and place.'
'How about if I ask the Trimbles? They have a huge house in Swainshurst and they're always asking what they can do to help.'
'Are they the ones with the pack of dogs?'
'That's them. They work at the animal rescue centre and can't resist giving a home to the ones that no-one else wants.'
'Funny dogs but nice people,' said Shadow. 'If they're happy to host a meeting I'll be well chuffed.'
'When do you want the meeting?'
'Whenever suits the Trimbles. Not this week. Next week'll do. Any day'll suit me. Any time as well.'
'Okay. I'll see what I can do. I'd better go or there'll be chaos in the salon. You'll have to let me give your silky locks a bit of a tidy up one day.'
'Not a chance, Mr Sanders!' retorted Shadow. 'I need all my hair to keep me warm at night.'
'Which reminds me,' whispered Jerry as he leaned forward and tapped Shadow's shoulder, 'What's the story with that sweet, petite Misty?'
Shadow pushed him away with a laugh. 'You've no chance,' he taunted. 'She's engaged to the son of an earl.' When he saw how high Jerry's eyebrows had risen, he added, 'No, I can't see her in evening gown and diamonds either. Go on. Get back to work, you layabout.'
Jerry shrugged, turned round and began to walk away. Then he stopped in front of a tree, gave it an exaggerated bow and, in his most servile voice said, 'Yes your ladyship. Put your muddy boot on my back and I will assist you to climb your tree. Will madam require breakfast in her tree house in the morning?' Then, having given Shadow the rudest gesture he could think of, he scurried off.
What a nutter, thought Shadow. But it's good to have blokes like that behind you when you're involved in this business.
His musings were interrupted by a call from Misty, 'What's amusing Jerry Sanders? He just looked at me and burst out laughing.'