There’s No Place Like Here

50

Come on, Bobby!” I yelled, poking my head in the door of Lost and Found.

“What?” he shouted from upstairs.

“Bring the camera, get your keys, lock up, and let’s go. We’ve got to go!” I allowed the door to swing shut and paced up and down the veranda, Grace’s words still ringing in my ears. She knew Jenny-May. She had given me directions. I had to go to her now. My excitement had gone way past boiling point and was overflowing, spilling from me as I waited impatiently outside for Bobby. I needed him to show me the way to Jenny-May’s home in the forest, yet I didn’t have the patience to explain what it was I wanted.

Bobby arrived at the door, looking bewildered. “What the hell are you doing-” He stopped as soon as he saw the look on my face. “What happened?”

“Get your things, Bobby, quick.” I pushed by him into the shop. “I’ll explain on the way. Bring the camera.” I hopped around him as he clumsily tried to gather his things, trying to keep up with the speed with which I was barking my orders. By the time he had finished locking up I was power-walking down the dusty street, aware that even more eyes were on me now, after the community gathering last night.

“Wait, Sandy!” I heard him panting behind me. “What the hell happened to you? It’s like you’ve a rocket shoved up your arse!”

“Maybe I have.” I smiled, racing on.

“Where are we going?” He jogged alongside me.

“Here.” I thrust the page of directions at him and kept walking.

“Hold on. Slow down,” he said, trying to read it and run alongside me at the same time. One of my strides equaled two of his but I kept walking nonetheless. “Stop!” he shouted loudly in the market area, and others turned to stare. I finally stopped. “If you want me to read this properly you have to tell me what the hell is happening.”

I spoke faster than I had ever spoken before in my life.

“OK, I think I got all that,” Bobby said, still slightly confused, “but I’ve never been in this direction before.” He studied the map again. “We’ll have to ask Helena or Joseph.”

“No! We’ve no time! We have to go now,” I whined like an impatient child. “Bobby, I’ve been waiting for this moment for the past twenty-four years of my life. Please do not delay me now when I’m so close.”

“Yes, Dorothy, but it will take a bit more than following the yellow brick road,” he said sarcastically.

Despite my frustration, I laughed.

“I understand your haste but if I try to bring you to this place it will be another twenty-four years before we get there. I don’t know this part of the woods, I have never heard of this Jenny-May person, and I don’t have any friends who live that deep. If we get lost, we’re in big trouble. Let’s just go to Helena for help first.”

Although he was almost half my age, the boy made sense, and so I grudgingly stomped my way to Helena and Joseph’s house.

Helena and Joseph were sitting on the bench in the front of their house, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of Sunday lunchtime. Bobby, sensing my urgency, rushed straight to Helena and Joseph while Wanda jumped up from the ground where she was playing and ran to me.

“Hi, Sandy,” she said, grabbing my hand and skipping alongside me as I walked toward the house.

“Hi, Wanda,” I said in a bored tone as I tried to hide my smile.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s called Wanda’s hand,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “No, the other hand.”

“It’s a Polaroid camera.”

“Why?”

“Why is it a camera?”

“No. Why do you have it?”

“Because I want to take a photograph of somebody.”

“Who?”

“A girl I used to know.”

“Who?”

“A girl called Jenny-May Butler.”

“Was she your friend?”

“Not really.”

“Well then, why do you want to take a photograph of her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because you miss her?”

I was about to say no when I stopped myself. “Actually, I did miss her, very much.”

“And are you going to see her today?”

“Yes.” I smiled, grabbing Wanda under her armpits and swinging her around, much to her delight. “I am going to see Jenny-May Butler today!”

Wanda began laughing uncontrollably and sang a song she pretended to know about a girl called Jenny-May, which she clearly was making up on the spot, much to my amusement.

“I’m going to come with you,” Helena said, breaking into Wanda’s song, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. I took a photo of the two of them when they weren’t looking.

“Stop wasting the cartridges,” Bobby barked at me, and I snapped his face too.

“No, Helena, I don’t expect you to come.” I waved the photos in the air to dry before placing them in my shirt pocket. “You’ve got the dress rehearsal tonight. That’s more important. Just explain to Bobby where it is.” I began to get jittery again.

She looked at her watch and I had a pang of longing for mine. “It’s just after one. The dress rehearsal isn’t until seven; we’ll be back in time. And besides, I want to go with you.” She touched my chin lightly and winked. “This is far more important, plus I know exactly where we’re going. This clearing is not much farther on from where you and I met last week.”

Joseph made his way to me. He held out his hand. “Safe trip, Kipepeo girl.”

I took his hand with confusion. “I’m coming back, Joseph.”

“I should hope so,” he said, and placed his other hand on my head. “When you get back I shall tell you what a Kipepeo girl is.” He smiled.

“Liar,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Right, let’s go,” Helena said, throwing a lime green pashmina over her shoulders.

We set off in the direction of the woods, Helena leading the way. At the edge of the woods a young woman appeared, looking dazed and confused as she gazed around the village.

“Welcome,” Helena said to her.

“Welcome,” Bobby said happily.

She looked with confusion from their faces to mine. “Welcome,” I said and smiled, pointing her toward the registry office.

The routes Helena chose were cleared and well-traveled trails. The atmosphere reminded me of the first few days I had spent alone in these woods, wondering where I was. The scent of pine was rich, mixed with moss, bark, and damp leaves. There was the foul smell of rotting leaves mixed with the sweet floral scents of the wildflowers. Mosquitoes hovered in small areas, darting in circular motions together. Red squirrels bounced from branch to branch, and occasionally Bobby stopped to pick up an item of interest in our path. We couldn’t walk fast enough, as far as I was concerned. Yesterday I had thought the prospect of finding Jenny-May an impossibility; today I was going back the way I had come, to actually see her.

Grace Burns had explained that Jenny-May had arrived in the village with an elderly Frenchman, who had been living deep in the woods for years. She had knocked on his door seeking help when she had first arrived all those years ago. Seldom in the forty years he had lived Here had he ventured to the village, but twenty-four years ago he arrived at the registry office with the ten-year-old girl named Jenny-May Butler, who insisted on him being her guardian-the only person she trusted. Despite his desire for solitude, he agreed to care for her, choosing to remain in his home in the woods but making sure Jenny-May went back and forth to school every day and formed and maintained friendships. She became fluent in French, choosing to speak it when in the village, which meant that few of the Irish community were aware of her true roots. Jenny-May cared for her guardian until his dying day, fifteen years ago, and she decided to remain in the home he made hers, outside of the village, rarely venturing to the village herself.

After twenty minutes, we passed the clearing where I had met Helena and she insisted on stopping for a break. She drank from the canteen of water she had carried with her and passed it to Bobby and me. I didn’t feel the heat or the thirst on this hot day, though. My mind was focused on Jenny-May. I wanted to keep moving, keep walking until we reached her. After that, I had no idea what would happen.

“God, I’ve never seen you like this before,” Bobby said, staring at me oddly. “It’s as though you’ve ants in your pants.”

“She’s always like that.” Helena closed her eyes and fanned her perspiring face.

I paced up and down beside Helena and Bobby, hopping around, kicking leaves, and trying desperately to channel the adrenaline that was rushing through me. Feeling more anxious with every second they spent with me, they finally felt under pressure to move again, which I was glad of, but felt guilty about.

The next part of the journey was farther than Helena had thought. We walked for another thirty minutes before seeing a small wooden cabin in a clearing in the distance. Smoke was puffing from the chimney, following the direction of the tall pines until it overtook them, going where they couldn’t go, up and out in the cloudless sky.

We stopped walking as soon as we saw the cabin in the distance. Helena was red in the face and tired, and I felt more guilty for bringing her on such a journey on this hot day. Bobby was looking at the cabin rather disappointedly, probably hoping for something far more luxurious than this. I, on the other hand, was more pumped up than ever. The sight of the humble home before me took my breath away. It was the home of a girl who had always boasted about wanting so much more, yet, to me, the sight of it was a dream, a perfect pretty little picture. Just like Jenny-May.

Tall pines stood protectively on two sides of the house. In front there was a little garden amid the large clearing with small bushes, pretty flowers, and what looked from afar to be a vegetable patch or herb garden. Mosquitoes and flies, when hit by the sun, looked like symbiotic creatures circling in the air, pockets of them scattered throughout the area. Streams of sunlight shone down through the trees, spotlighting center stage.

“Oh, look,” Helena said, handing the water to Bobby as the front door of the cabin opened, and out of it came a little girl with white-blond hair. Her laughter echoed around the clearing and was carried over to us on the warm breeze. My hand went to my mouth. I must have made a sound, though I didn’t hear it, because Bobby and Helena immediately looked to me. Tears welled in my eyes, as I watched the little girl, no older than five, exactly like the little girl I began my first day of school with. Then a female voice called from the house and my heart thudded.

“Daisy!”

Then a male voice: “Daisy!”

Little Daisy ran around the front garden, giggling and twirling, her lemon dress floating around her on the wind. Then from the front door, a man stepped out and began to chase her. Her giggling turned to screams of delight. He made terrifying noises behind her, teasing how he was going to catch her, which made her scream with laughter even more. Finally he caught her and spun her around in the air while she screamed “More, more, more!” He stopped when both were out of breath and he carried her in his arms back toward the house. Just outside the door he stopped and turned around slowly to look straight at us.

He called into the house. We heard the female voice again, but not her words. He stood there looking directly at us.

“Can I help you?” he called, holding his hand to his forehead to shield the sun from his eyes.

Helena and Bobby looked to me. I stared at the man and the child in his arms, speechless.

“Well, yes, thank you. We’re looking for Jenny-May Butler,” Helena called politely. “I’m not sure if we’re at the right place.”

I had no doubt we were at the right place.

“Who is looking for her?” he asked politely. “I’m sorry, I can’t see you from here.” He began to take a few steps forward.

“Sandy Shortt is here for her,” Helena called.

Immediately a figure appeared at the door.

I heard my large intake of breath.

Long blond hair, slim and pretty. The same but older. My age. The child in her was gone. She wore a loose-fitting white cotton dress and was barefoot. She held in her hand a tea cloth, which fell to the floor when she held her hand to her forehead to block out the sunlight, and her eyes fell upon me.

“Sandy?” Her voice was older but the same. It quivered and was uncertain, displaying fear and joy all at the same time.

“Jenny-May,” I called back, hearing exactly the same tone in my voice.

Then I heard her cry as she slowly started to walk toward me and I heard myself cry as I took steps toward her. And I saw her arms reaching out and felt mine do the same. The distance between us grew smaller, the idea of her being before me becoming more real. Her sobs were loud; mine too, I was sure. We cried like children as we walked toward one another, studying faces, hair, bodies, and remembering, good things and bad. And then we were within each other’s grasp and we fell into each other. Crying and hugging, moving to look at each other’s face, wiping tears from each other’s cheek, and then holding on again. Never wanting to let go.