Eleanor left a long silence before thanking Briony and turning to face the judge. ‘No further questions, my lady.’
Chapter 31
Reubyn
Reubyn sees the turning coming up ahead and indicates to leave the highway. It’s been a long drive and he needs to stretch his legs.
It’s now only ten kilometres to Hendrick’s Forest. Having spent so much time reading about it, looking at photographs and studying it on Google Maps, he can’t wait to see it for real. He discovered the forest while researching compelling subjects for video content. When on the hunt for ideas, Reubyn’s normal instinct is to search for something dramatic and strange. But here in New Zealand, he needs to be careful and considerate – Miles has been through so much and he mustn’t add to the stress by taking him anywhere weird. So, he’s chosen somewhere peaceful. The reserve they’re about to enter will be stunning and unspoilt – exactly the sort of scenery this country is famous for. And it has something else going for it, too: the kakapo. Reubyn has been upfront about it to Miles, and he’s fine with it. There’s no reason for him not to be, really. And it’s only for one night. Or maybe two, depending on how it goes.
Reubyn isn’t a big nature guy, but when he saw videos of the kakapo, a unique and rare bird, he knew it had the potential tocaptivate a large audience. The kakapo is unlike any other bird on Earth. It’s a ground-dwelling parrot; bulky and green with forward-facing eyes, like an owl’s. And it’s completely flightless.
Reubyn has prepared and memorised a bit of background on the bird, which he plans to use as a short piece to camera. Its story is a sad one, although crucially not without hope of redemption. For thousands of years, the kakapo was abundant in New Zealand, where there were no mammals, and birds had free rein. But when humans arrived, they brought with them rats, dogs and other animals that picked off the kakapo with ease. The birds were defenceless. Because they’d evolved in the absence of mammals, they didn’t recognise their predators when they appeared. It didn’t take long before the kakapo were almost completely wiped out. Today, there are only a handful left. And if you want to spot one in the wild in mainland New Zealand, pretty much your only hope is Hendrick’s Forest, where a reintroduction programme is underway. If Reubyn can track one down, he’ll end up with a lovely little video. And if it goesreallywell, he can imagine it being a massive hit.
Ahead, the road is narrowing. And the surface is about to change, too – the smooth tarmac’s soon to run out. There’s no apparent reason for the sudden change, and Reubyn slows the vehicle before they reach the unsealed road surface. Even so, the bus begins to shudder and rattle over the rough ground, which is gravelly and pocked with potholes. Via the wing mirrors, Reubyn sees dust clouding up around their wheels.
They pass three heavy-set local kids on bicycles, who all stop pedalling and gawp at the bus, as if it’s a spaceship that’s beamed down from another galaxy.
In the interior mirror, Reubyn sees Polly stirring from her nap; she’s been roused by the bus’s shaky movements as it passes overthe uneven terrain. Polly sits up and looks around, bleary-eyed. ‘Where are we?’
‘We came off the highway a while back,’ Reubyn says. ‘It would appear they don’t bother sealing the roads out here in the sticks. Not enough traffic to make it worthwhile, I guess.’
‘Reubyn, you can’t take a vehicle like this down a dirt track – the hire company will go ballistic. Turn around.’
‘It’s fine,’ Reubyn says. ‘We’re nearly there.’
‘Nearly where?’
Reubyn groans. He’s spent large chunks of the last couple of hours explaining to everyone else where they’re going, and he’s not about to go through it again. ‘A camping spot. You’ll see it in a minute.’
Reubyn makes a slow turn around a corner. The road ahead is flanked by small, shabby, rickety-fenced fields, some containing sheep. The uplands beyond are covered in forest.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Polly mutters under her breath.
Reubyn ignores her moaning; she’ll be fine when they get there. He concentrates on the road. It’s still wide enough for two lanes but there are no markings. On their right is a single mailbox and a farmhouse behind it, set back from the road. Thanks to his research into the area, Reubyn knows this is the last dwelling before they reach the reserve. From his elevated position, he can see over the fence and into the yard, where there are a couple of off-road motorbikes, and bits of old farm equipment and tractor tyres scattered across the dirty concrete.
Nobody speaks as the bus rumbles on towards the gate at the bottom of the hill, which Reubyn knows is the entrance to the reserve. He pulls up in front of it and climbs out, leaving the engine running. As he steps down on to the ground and looks up, he has the sudden sense of being small and insignificant. The forest is towering and wide. It’s uglier than he expected. It has a startling effect on him – turning his stomach. Reubyn is surprised and almost ashamed to react that wayto a collection of trees, but it’s inescapable: there’s something unpleasant about it.
A wooden sign says, ‘Welcome to Hendrick’s Forest’, but it’s weathered and dull and not particularly welcoming. Written underneath is a longer indigenous name that Reubyn won’t attempt to pronounce. A yellow notice is attached to the gate, from the Department of Conservation, but Reubyn pays no attention to it – he already knows about the kakapo reintroduction project.
The road on the other side of the gate is cracked and old but in better condition than the one they’re on – it was at least once sealed with tar. There is no telling how long it is; the road is a dark, shadowy hole through the forest, visible for a few hundred yards until it ascends and bends and is lost in the trees. Penned in behind the perimeter fence, the trees jitter, their brushing branches creating an undulating whisper. There’s a change in the air. Reubyn was well aware that there is a storm on the way, and now he can sense it – that heaviness all around. He’s always been particularly sensitive to changes in barometric pressure, ever since he was a little boy, and now he can really feel it: that odd sensation when the tissues inside his body begin to expand ever so slightly and press against his nerves.
Reubyn tries the gate, and it creaks open. He breathes a sigh of relief. He has largely hedged his bets on being able to camp here, and, at the moment, he doesn’t really have a plan B. He leaves the gate ajar and returns to the bus. There’s an unexpected tickle of trepidation in his chest as he squeezes on the accelerator, and the bus rattles over a cattle grid and crawls into the forest.
Chapter 32
Elis
The track is longer than expected, snaking deep into the reserve, and it’s only just wide enough for the bus to make the corners. Elis’s view is of little more than the mossy forest floor and the passing trunks of trees, some thin and straight and others that twist with grasping arms. It’s gloomy under the canopy, but the sun must’ve briefly broken through the clouds because light strobes through the trees for a few seconds before they’re returned to near darkness. The forest’s low ceiling feels unsettlingly dense; here they are, in November, yet the trees are alive and sprung with green leaves that form a bristling barrier to the sky.
Elis shouldn’t be here. That’s clear now. He had his chance to back out, but, like an idiot, he didn’t take it, instead hoping for things to miraculously improve. He should’ve stayed in Queenstown and taken the next available flight. Now it might be several days until he next has the chance to head for home.
He was a fool to think he might fit within this group. To the untrained eye, he probably looks a bit like them. He may even sound a bit like them. But you can’t fool these people by changing your accent. The differences can be found if you look for them: in their confidence, their tattoo-less skin, their perfect teeth. That’s a lesson he’s learned onthis trip: if you’re required to make a judgement on someone’s background, it’s very much like buying a horse. You need to look them in the mouth. Elis’s teeth are slightly misaligned, and he has dark fillings – both hallmarks of someone who went to a comprehensive.
He glances over at Miles, who’s joking with George about some night out in their past. It’s as if Miles is a different person to the one he knows at home. This trip was supposed to bring them closer, but it’s had the opposite effect – Miles appears to have forgotten all loyalty to Elis, even after everything that’s happened.
On their right, a haunted-looking shack of weathered timber is coming into view, half hidden by the trees. They pass it, round a corner and enter a clearing. Reubyn announces that they’ve reached their destination and pulls up into a small but empty car park, coming to rest across five or six spaces. Next to the car park is a patch of green, where two old picnic tables are half consumed by the long grass. Reubyn opens the doors, and they all file out.
‘Is this it?’ George asks of no one in particular, his hands planted on the waistband of his mustard-coloured trousers as he looks around.
