Poppet

Into the Wild

IN THE ENTRANCE to the dead skeleton tree, AJ LeGrande sits on the ground staring at what is in his hands. Stewart stands next to him, attentive, uncertain. He keeps lifting his face to AJ’s as if asking to be reassured everything is OK.

‘I don’t know, do I?’ AJ says. ‘You’re the one who wanted to come here.’

Inside the tree trunk, behind the door, was a small hollow packed with feathers. In it were lying the two dolls he holds now. If Isaac Handel hasn’t made them, then someone is doing a good job of aping him, because they have his style stamped all over them. They even smell of him. AJ turns them over and over – studying them in the thin white light coming through the branches.

They have been constructed using scraps of fabric; twists of foil and bottle caps – they aren’t as ugly as some of the other things Isaac used to make. Isaac was never shy about depicting the gender of his dolls – he makes that part abundantly clear – one is a male and one is a female. They are depicted embracing. It’s not sex – it’s an affectionate embrace. AJ’s not sure how Isaac has achieved the sense of attachment and love between them. When he tries to untangle them it takes a while. He has to use his keys to snap the cotton that has been used to stitch them together.

He recognizes the male doll. It’s him. AJ.

‘OK,’ he says, shaken. He puts the doll down, takes off his jacket, in spite of the cold, lays it on the wet ground, kneels and lies the dolls carefully on the jacket. ‘OK.’

His hair is made of scraps of wool, and the front of the T-shirt is made from a scrap of the Hawaiian shirt that Patience says is a danger to all people of taste. The female doll means nothing to him. It has bright-red wool for hair and is dressed in a skirt covered in lilac-sprigged flowers. Tiny bangles made of twisted wire cover its arms.

‘Isaac, old mate,’ he whispers. ‘Isaac? What’s all this about?’

He raises his head to survey the clearing, wondering what Isaac wanted from this place. This place that has been in his dreams all these years – just a few miles from his home. With a jolt he sees he’s not alone. On the edge of the trees, about four metres away, a woman stands silently watching him.

‘Jesus.’ He gets up hurriedly. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

She smiles. She is petite and pretty – with a neat elfin helmet of vibrant red hair. She’s wearing wellingtons and a duffle coat – a floral skirt peeping out from under it. Stewart instantly trots over to her, as if he knows her, sits at her feet. She bends and scratches him behind the ears. ‘Are you Stewart?’ she says. ‘Are you? You’re lovely.’

‘Stewart,’ AJ says warningly. ‘Stewart …’ He wants to order the dog away, the way he’d warn him away from any stranger – but this woman doesn’t appear to be a threat. In fact she’s so gentle with Stewart that he actually rolls on to his back like a soppy puppy so she can rub his belly.

‘Hey, you like that!’ She crouches and scratches him hard. Stewart’s ears flop back and his head turns from side to side in doggie ecstasy. ‘You are an attention sponge,’ she laughs. ‘My old Suki would have fallen in love with you.’

AJ stands slowly. He is frowning. ‘Do you know my dog?’

She shakes her head, happily scratching away at Stewart, whose legs are twitching with pleasure.

‘I said, do you know my dog? You know his name.’

‘Yes, I know his name. He’s just as lovely as I expected.’

‘As you expected?’

She stops scratching and raises her eyes to him. She must be about his age, but her skin is as smooth and clear as cream. Her eyes are a muddy green. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘Are you going to explain?’

‘That’s why I’m here, AJ.’

He stares at her. ‘I beg your pardon? Say that again.’

She smiles. ‘That’s why I’m here, AJ.’

‘OK – stop now. This is too random.’

‘No. It’s not.’ She points to his jacket on the ground. ‘Look at the dolls.’

He glances down. Sees the red wool of the doll’s hair. The dress it is wearing is similar to the woman’s. A muted floral print.

‘I’m Penny, and you don’t know me. But I know who you are. You were Isaac’s friend in the hospital.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I told you – I’m Penny. And I’m a hippy.’

‘Yes – you look like one.’

‘You’re not exactly David Beckham. Has anyone ever told you that?’

‘Not in so many words. How do you know Isaac?’

She smiles. ‘I’m his mother. No – not his mother, of course I’m not really his mother. I’m his dream mother. I’m the one he wanted as his mother. Do you know some of the things his real mother did to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well – you probably don’t know them all. You don’t want to know. I didn’t know until last week – I didn’t understand him. I thought he hated me. That was Isaac’s problem. Everyone ran away from him.’

‘I didn’t run away. Or did I?’

‘No. You didn’t. And he loved you for that. He really loved you. If I was his mother in his dreams, then you were his father. Did you know that?’

AJ stares at her – speechless. He wants to argue, to tell her she’s insane, and that he should know about insanity, given his profession. But he glances down at the dolls and it crosses his mind that maybe he has been guided by an unseen hand. For a long time he’s thought he’d lost his way, but maybe that was all part of the path. His destiny.