Going Up

Ana hated trees. She hated the way they smelt, the way they gave her hay fever in the summer and the way their rough bark left marks on her skin. Ana especially hated the way this particular one stood tall and proud, mocking her attempts at trying to take a small cutting.

She faced the walnut tree head on, spreading her feet far apart and leaving her arms hanging loose, not quite touching her body; the stance of a gunslinger ready to do battle. The walnut tree was enormous, twisted and old it dominated this part of the forest, having easily fought off the weeds and vines that managed to wrap themselves around the other poor trees. It also seemed to have a mind of its own, swinging out of Ana’s reach whenever she got too close to its precious bark. With every swipe she made, the walnut’s large green leaves bristled, just like a bird shaking water off its back, obviously annoyed with the young girl’s violent actions.

Ana lunged again and the tree’s tough boughs heaved a sigh of relief as the knife missed its ancient limbs again and fell to the floor.

But Ana was a stubborn girl and fought back, no forty foot tree was escaping the sharp point of her knife. No way. She repositioned her red woollen hat, which had come askew and picked up the knife for the fourth time, welding her weapon like a pro and prepared to jump onto the tree if it came to it.

Ana’s mum was a tree surgeon and it was her job to treat sick trees by monitoring and diagnosing them. Ruthie Coxon spent most of her time hanging from tall trees suspended by ropes in her blue boiler suit and yellow hard hat, the rest of the time she spent with a pair of tweezers, a Petri dish and a microscope. Life didn’t get any more thrilling for Ruthie than that.

Even though Ana didn’t appreciate trees as much as her mum, she really wanted to join her in the air, to go up high amongst the canopy of trees and look out at the clear blue sky, unfettered by the sights of leaves and wood. But she wasn’t allowed to go up yet, apparently being fourteen wasn’t old enough to go around risking your neck. Ana had argued that if a single mother with a child to look after could go up, then so could she but Ruthie had settled the matter by grounding her. Ana didn’t really care; she had nowhere else to go.

Ruthie worked predominately in old forests because she had a passion for preserving the oldest of nature’s gifts, from sweet chestnuts, to royal oaks and sacred yews. She especially liked trees which had inspired folk tales and legends, trees that had a history, a story to tell. Unfortunately for Ana this meant that she too had to spend a lot of time with trees, moving with her mother from forest to forest, packing and repacking her belongings as she went. Sometimes Ana never even bothered to unpack at all.

Ruthie had a secret, one she had never shared with another living soul. But Ana knew about it, they lived in such tight quarters that it would have been hard not to find out.

Ruthie Coxon was a tree whisperer.

Ana had spied her talking to them, caressing them, stroking their trunks like a mother nursing a young sick child. She had even spotted her mum singing nursery rhymes to them a couple of times and would hide behind large tree trunks, so she could watch Ruthie press her lips against their bark and give them a kiss or two. It was a strange practice and Ana never let on that she knew.

Ana blamed it on the fact they spent too much time alone. They worked mainly by themselves, Ruthie out in the forest with her trees and Ana within the lodge with her school work. As they were always constantly moving Ana couldn’t attend school like a regular kid, so was home taught, sometimes by a qualified teacher and other times by Ruthie’s eccentric tree friends, most of whom considered basics like Maths and French boring and unneeded within their nature filled universe. So a lot of the time Ana did without a proper education and secretly despaired at the thought of having to take GCSEs in two and a half years time.

She was tired of climbing trees and getting water from wells, having turned fourteen the week before her feet started to itch with a new found fervour to go out into the world, explore and make friends. Ana wanted to leave the constant stream of wooden lodges behind and move into a house with brick walls, a real home with a constant supply of light and electricity. Half the places they lived in didn’t even have the most basic of technologies, such as computers and televisions, sometimes not even lights. She didn’t even have an e-mail address or a website blog to her name.

Not that it really mattered, Ana thought, it wasn’t like she had any friends to share her thoughts with anyway.

Today was a Saturday and Ana had woken up feeling bored. They had moved to the Forest of Dean two weeks ago and the two roomed lodge still didn’t have electricity, so she couldn’t even watch her favourite morning programmes on her incredibly old television.

Her mum had been dashing around, as usual, her curly red hair screwed messily on top of her head. “Could you do me a favour?” She had asked Ana, who was lying on the grass outside the lodge, staring up at the blue sky above, bored.

“What is it?” Ana had responded with a hint of trepidation in her voice, raising herself up on her elbows.

“I need a cutting from the old walnut tree; it’s only three miles away and since it’s such a lovely day why don’t you take Rolo out on a walk with you?”

“But Mum! I took him out first thing this morning!”

“Come on, you know how busy I am at the moment. A little help once in a while wouldn’t hurt you.”

At the mention of his name Rolo came over to Ana and put his golden head in her lap, making doe eyes up at her. Ana was a sucker for the golden retriever her mum bought her three years ago. He was her best friend. They both stared at each other, trying to psyche one another out, but Ana gave up after a minute. The dog always won in the end. Taking a deep breath she resigned herself to her fate and went to fetch his lead. Emotional blackmail was cruel.

The sun was now starting to drop over the heads of the tallest trees so Ana decided to make her way back to the lodge. She had finally managed to obtain the elusive tree cuttings and had safely stowed them away in her backpack. It was the end of March and the evenings were still cold so she wrapped her red jumper tighter around herself and pulled her woollen hat further over her ears.

She hoped dinner would be ready when she got back, the ham sandwiches she ate for lunch hadn’t been all that satisfying, most of them had gone to Rolo and her stomach was starting to growl hungrily.

By the time she reached the lodge the sun had almost set, red and orange light filtered through the trees and shimmered over her dark hair, like a crown of flame. As she got closer Ana noticed that the front door was ajar and hurried over to it. It was her mother’s biggest rule that the door should always remain shut because of the forest animals coming inside the lodge and wrecking the place. Rolo though, seemed to have no qualms about the open door and happily wandered in, so Ana followed, trusting his canine senses.

She shut the door behind her and threw her rucksack on her bed. The lodge consisted of two rooms, a small bathroom and one big room which contained two small single beds, a cupboard for clothes, a kitchenette and one small plastic table with two matching chairs. One of mum’s tree hippy friends described it as bijoux – whatever that meant.

“Mum, are you in?” Ana knocked on the bathroom door.

There was no answer.

Her mum must have left the door open by accident, which was strange as she was such a stickler for the rules.

Rolo’s stomach growled. Ana looked down at him and laughed, “ok boy, lets get you some food.” She filled his bowl and gave him some water, then opened the lid of the cooler box to see what she could eat.

Milk, cheese, broccoli and mushrooms. “Yum.” Ana said sarcastically as she reached for the cheese and then took some crackers out from the food cupboard above the sink.

“Looks like this will have to do for now Rolo.”

Rolo looked up from his bowl and lifted his ears in question, creasing his golden forehead in thought. Ana smiled at the look on his face and patted him on the head as he quickly returned to his food.

“At least one of us is getting a decent meal.” She sighed, taking a mouthful of cheese.

By the time Ana had eaten, showered and dressed into a pair of purple and red tartan pyjamas it was eight o’clock.

Mum had still not come back.

The first niggles of doubt started to enter her mind, it was dark now and there was nowhere she could go for help. Ana was isolated, trapped within the forest with only Rolo for company and the nearest town was a ten mile trek out of the forest. Ana’s meagre torch had run out of batteries last week so she was reluctant to leave the lodge and venture out into the night amongst the owls and badgers.

She tried to keep busy by lighting as many candles as she could so that the lodge was lit up like a beacon, and she spread them across the room, filling every nook and cranny with light. Then she washed up the dirty cups lying in the sink and tidied the small living space.

Her mum still hadn’t returned and Ana started to fear that she was going to have to open the box.

When Ana was six Ruthie had given strict orders not to ever open her box. She had bought another one for Ana, exactly the same, so they could each have their own private box to put whatever they wanted in them.

Ana remembered shaking her mum’s hand in agreement and swearing that she would only go into the box if there was an emergency.

Well, thought Ana, this could be it.

She wasn’t used to being completely alone at night and it scared her. The sounds of nocturnal animals foraging in the forest sounded much louder to her now that she was by herself. Ana climbed onto her bed and pulled an old croqueted blanket over herself, leant on her side and shut her eyes. She could feel Rolo climb up and snuggle down next to her and Ana put her arm around him tightly and tried to fall asleep. But it was no use, she was starting to get really worried now, it was twelve o’clock and there was nothing she could do. She was helpless.

After ten minutes Ana threw the cover off her body and climbed over the sleeping dog, then took a candle from the bedside table which sat between the two beds and bent down. She crawled under her mum’s bed and reached for the box, pulling it out towards her. It was made of dark brown wood and engraved with tree vines, just like her own box, in the centre were the words ‘Ruthie’s treasures’. The box wasn’t large; it was A4 sized and about 10 cm deep.

Just big enough for the smallest of treasures, Ruthie had said when she first gave Ana her box.

Ana put the candle on the floor and sat the box on her lap. It was very heavy for such a small thing. It was held together by four wooden pegs at each corner and Ana pulled them out one by one and placed them safely on the bedside table.

Then she opened it.

She stared at the treasures and her green eyes gleamed with excitement. A small part of Ana felt bad for intruding but the feeling quickly disappeared when she looked at the box’s contents. Ana looked around the room, reaffirming that she was alone and reached inside.

The box was lined inside with purple silk and the items within it fitted neatly next to one another as if the owner had spent a long time working out how they would all best fit. Ana wondered whether it would be better if she sorted through them systematically or ripped the box apart. She didn’t know what to do. Her breathing was deep and uneven as if she were about to jump off a very high tree and the flame of the candle flickered from side to side, a warning to control her breathing.

This box contained something that was rightfully hers, so why shouldn’t she have a look?

Ana took a deep breath and made a vow to handle everything with care, reassured with her reasoning she began to look closer.

Lying on top was a delicate round band made out of twigs, where wood intertwined with silver, dried daisies and shimmering orange stones. It seemed old and Ana held the fairy like crown reverently between her fingertips. No doubt part of an old fancy dress costume, she thought and put the headdress on her head, swiftly moving on.

Underneath lay a small creamy white envelope, unopened. It was sealed at the back with green wax like they used to do in the olden days. Ana put it to one side, this wouldn’t help her either, going through the box was one thing but opening unaddressed mail was entirely different kettle of fish altogether.

A large ring sat snug in the corner of the box and Ana pulled it out. It was most unusual, like a signet ring but made out of dark wood. On top was a carving of a willow tree with what looked like a harp the wrong way round, intrigued Ana looked at the sides of the ring, one had the initials HA and other side said TE. How odd! Well, they certainly weren’t her mother’s initials but how on earth did she get this?

The workmanship was amazing; perhaps it had been a gift from another like minded tree person. Ruthie had travelled a lot when she was younger, so, maybe this was a gift from an old Indian chief or something. Ana stowed away the image of the ring in her head and picked up a tiny blue vial that was attached to a thin silver chain. It was no larger than her thumb and contained something that looked like sand, Ana put it to one side, it wasn’t of any use to her at all.

Her eye fell upon a yellowed piece of paper which lay slightly crumpled in the corner of the box. Ana tensed, realising that all the wonderings of her childhood were tied up with this one piece of paper. Her life could change forever if she just turned it over and looked at it. But she didn’t think she could. Ana’s lifted a hand to her mouth and bit on her thumbnail, a terrible childish habit she had for when she was scared.

Look at it! She screamed to herself. It’s yours! Take it!

Ana grabbed it, crushing the paper even more in her tight fist and then dropped it on the floor, hastily running her hands over it as if the words were about to disappear. Her birth certificate was now a little worse for wear.

Ana knew that she was adopted; Ruthie had been very honest with her ever since she was small. But she had never been allowed to see her real birth certificate which would reveal the names of her real parents. Ana thought that perhaps Ruthie wanted to keep her in the dark for as long as possible so that she wouldn’t run off to find them and forget all about her. But she would never do that, Ruthie was her real mum, she would be forever.

Ana wasn’t sad about the fact that she was adopted, she was just naturally curious about her birth parents. A name or a hair colour or a foot size would have meant the world to her, just anything to say that she had a past, a family, someone who perhaps looked like herself and made her feel less alone in the world.

The red crest at the top said that she was born in the Vale of Glamorgan – wherever that was. Next it said: Mother: H. Arcadium, Father: H. Hoplismena. Occupation of Father: Captain of the Guard. The military!

Ana was shocked. This wasn’t what she had imagined when growing up, they also sounded rather foreign! Instantly, she had visions of an exotic gypsy mother and a fierce warrior father caught between love and duty, having to sacrifice their one and only child in the name of love. How romantic!

She looked further down the paper and with a start looked at the name she had been given at birth, Analia Morrel Arcadium. What an odd name! Ruthie said her name was Ana May Coxon, simple and British. This was so exciting! Ana was glad that she had opened the box.

She wanted to know more and dug inside the box and picked up a piece of card. It had a few words of writing on it in pencil but she couldn’t make out what it said so she moved closer to the candle, trying to work it out. My family, it said in fancy script, Summer 1917.

Ana hastily turned the card over to reveal a sepia coloured photograph of a group of women. It was very clear considering how old the picture was and behind the group was a glorious field of wildflowers. Three women stood tall, their hands on the shoulders of three young girls who stood in front of them and on the floor sat two teenage girls with mischievous grins on their faces. Ana noticed straight away that they were twins, they both had the same freckled faces and long gangly limbs and their mother was one of the women standing at the back, an older version of the two beaming girls. Ana traced her finger over their faces, they seemed familiar to her.

She then looked at the middle row of girls who looked younger than the twins. Their hair was lighter, but as the photo was not in colour it was hard to determine. They all had the same shape eyes and small pointed noses, the tallest had long wavy hair and an almost angry look to her face, the middle girl looked dreamy as if she were staring at a distant butterfly, the youngest looked no older than four in her flowered dress and it looked like her shoulders were being gripped by one of the adults so that she couldn’t run off.

The three women at the back were beautiful, the twin’s mother stood on the left and a fair haired woman stood on the right, an angelic smile on her face and a very tiny baby in her grip. In the centre stood the tallest, she looked intense, in control. In the centre of her forehead was a diamond shaped jewel and she wore long dark robes which hung well off her elegant frame.

Ana’s eyes went back to the twins.

No, it couldn’t be? Could it? That child was Ruthie! Ana scanned the back of the photo again and looked at the date. It couldn’t have been 1917, more like 1977.

There was a knock on the door and Ana jumped. The last item in the box was a knife of black, from hilt to tip. Quickly she took it out and stuffed the rest of the items back into the box, clambered back onto the bed with the knife in her hand and pulled the crochet blanket over her head. Crap, crap, crap she kept whispering fiercely to herself as she clutched at Rolo’s fur.

Rolo barked and Ana held onto him for dear life so that he couldn’t leave the bed. Something sharp dug into her forehead and she realised that she still had the crown on. Oops!

Before Ana could shout crap again the front door flew open. Ana didn’t look. Didn’t dare. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.

Booted feet walked slowly towards the bed, the noise loud upon the wooden floor. Despite Ana’s firm grip Rolo jumped off the bed and growled at the intruder.

Ana tightened her hold on the knife.

A tinkle of laughter shot out from beside the bed, much like the sound of a child and Ana opened her eyes intrigued.

Ana opened her eyes and peered through the holes of the blanket.

What in the world was that?

“Going up?” Asked the little girl.