‘What is this place?’ Oli muttered. ‘I’ve never seen trees like this before.’
‘Because they’re not trees,’ James clarified. ‘They’re plants. This is a banana grove.’
Unexpectedly, the girl split from the pack and wandered further into the clearing, that peculiar trance-like expression hugging her face. She looked almost happy. It was the first time James had seen her smile.
‘So what’s the script with you and Abbey, anyway?’ Oli asked.
‘The script?’
‘Yeah, you know…you like her, right?’
Glancing over his shoulder, James locked eyes with the student. ‘You do know she’s married, Oli? There is no script.’
‘Ah, bet you wish there was, though, huh? I’ve seen the way you look at her.’
‘Oh yeah, how’s that?’
‘With that like glazed look, like you’re totally blown away by her. I’ve seen it, man, you got it bad.’
James smirked. Refusing to play the student’s game, he followed the girl into the clearing. At the far end he could see the odd structure they’d spied from the tor.
‘She is hot, man, I’ll give you that.’
‘Oli, be quiet.’
Catching up with the girl, James held her back, the fixated expression lingering with her. She was barely breathing.
‘And those green eyes. I mean, wow!’
‘Oli, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to tie you to a tree and leave you for the birds.’
From where he was standing he couldn’t make out what the structure was, but amazingly it looked manmade.
‘Think this place has got the girl spooked,' Oli observed.
James knelt before her. ‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’
He expected no response and wasn’t disappointed. It wasn’t until he laid a hand gently on her arm that her head whipped around as though startled from a bad dream.
James backed away a tad. ‘What is it, sweetie? What’s got you so frightened?’
‘It’s this grove, man,' said Oli. 'I’m telling you. We should get her back to the camp.’
The girl didn’t seem to want to move. Her blankness was beginning to disturb him.
‘Oli, keep an eye on her for a couple of minutes, will you?’
James climbed to his feet and headed cautiously towards the structure, tentatively stepping along the patch of infertile ground. His suspicions were confirmed as he neared – the structure was manmade, some kind of hut propped up on stilts. The whole of one side had collapsed but it was still accessible, if uninhabitable. If somebody had once lived here, they were long gone now.
‘Hey, James,’ Oli called. ‘Want me to grab some bananas?’
James didn’t reply. Instead he began up the three small steps and went inside. Part of the roof was still intact, but the majority had caved in. He shifted some of the fallen roofing, an escaping bird startling him. Beneath it was the remnants of habitation: a silver-plated whiskey flask, some curious-looking rags which had probably been clothes once, and right at the bottom was a black and white photograph preserved in cellophane.
He held it up to the light. The image was of a beach somewhere. It looked like England. The men in the picture were wearing shirts and braces, the legs of their pants rolled up for paddling. Some of them wore handkerchiefs on their heads, knotted at the corners. Most of the women idled in deck chairs wearing full bathing suits and identical hairstyles, tightly curled from hours in rollers.
The focal point for the cameraman was an open-shirted gentleman and a woman standing next to their chairs, saying cheese. Around the man’s neck, a golden medallion rested against his hairy chest. At odds with the women in her proximity, the female was a stunner.
He flipped the picture to find an inscription that had refused to fade. In eloquent looping scripture, it read:
Me and My Beautiful Betty.
Blackpool Beach, 1922.
Standing quietly in ambivalence, James placed the picture carefully into the pocket of his shorts. He didn’t know how he should be feeling. Like them, somebody had been stranded here almost ninety years ago, long enough to build a shelter substantial enough that it should endure. Several questions nibbled at him. Only one seemed pertinent. If somebody had been around to build the hut, where was the body?
Back outside, Oli was plucking bananas from the untapped source and stuffing them unceremoniously into his rucksack. The girl hadn’t budged.
‘What’d you find, man?’ Oli asked through a mouthful of banana.
‘Nothing,’ James lied.
‘What do you mean nothing? Somebody built that thing.’
‘It’s empty now.’
‘Then whoever built it was rescued, right?’ Oil said hopefully.
James knelt in front of the girl. ‘Okay, sweetheart, are you ready to head back to the beach? We can come back another day, okay?’
Never in his life had James witnessed such unwavering fascination, if that’s what it was.
‘We ready to go?’ said Oli, bag bulging with bananas.
‘I don’t think so.’
Bending forwards, Oli looked into the girl’s eyes, her pupils suddenly dilating, catapulting her back to the present. Startling them the girl locked eyes with Oli and screamed the scream of the damned.
James winced, Oli reeled, birds erupted from the treetops. The unfamiliar cry of an animal returned the girl’s call with a chilling shriek of its own. Whatever it was didn’t stop until the girl did.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Oli cried covering his ears. ‘I know I’m no looker but come on!’
Gently taking the girl’s head in his hands, James looked into her eyes. They blinked and peered back at him, confused. She appeared to be back. More importantly, she was breathing again.
‘I’ve got goosebumps,’ Oli declared. ‘They must’ve heard that at the beach.’
James wrapped his arms around the girl’s slender shoulders as tears trickled down her expressionless face. In his grasp he could feel her frail body shivering.
‘I think we may be ready to leave, Oli,’ he uttered. ‘Get your stuff
