The Tens Vanessa Jones (historical books to read TXT) 📖

of trees, with collections of limestone piled at the base of the trunk. Fallen branches lay below them like soldiers. There was junk piled up at nearly every tree: heavy chains rusted so much they were almost black, hanging from trees all lined up so they formed a blanket. Half-formed animal skulls— perhaps for decoration or intimidation, or both. Sophie scanned her eyes across the other collected debris: a cast iron pot swinging in the mild wind like a pendulum and circles of iron, like hoops or bangles positioned on the arm of a tree stump. One tree proudly displayed a rusted wagon wheel— the epitome of a world gone to the past.

Swallows dived like hang gliders, a movementless glide, dipping diagonally where the sharp ledge of the front of their wings sliced through air supported by invisible forces.Flashes of red and green captured her eyesight as they tilted their small bodies back and forth, in what would otherwise be an ordinary afternoon.

Taking it all in, she observed those around her. None of the women spoke to her or even acknowledged her. She felt like she didn't exist again. A resurgence of Ghost Girl. Like she was an elderly woman at a country football match, freezing away the afternoon. Occasionally, she would catch people looking at her from a distance but they would divert their eyes so quickly, without pausing their duties, that she wasn't sure if they were really looking at all. No one was close enough that Sophie could tell what their eyes were doing without distortion.

As if reading her mind, Clive smiled at her and said 'I see you, you know.' He continued to smile and sipped on tea in a metal cup beside her. Sophie wasn't quite sure what he meant but didn't want to break the spell. 'You're not invisible to us. Your greatness, your potentiality, it's all very obvious. Perhaps cos we are strangers to you, perhaps because we aren't burdened by the distraction of the world and we spend our time refining what we see so that we can easily spot perfection when it is thrust upon us.'

Sophie delicately scoffed, 'I'm far from perfect. In fact, I'm completely the opposite. I'm a dysfunctional mess who her husband can't stand to be around.' The effort of complete sentences heightened her weariness.

'Yes, that is what your mind is telling you, my dear. But it might not be the truth. Consider that, although unknown to you, this group of people could very well know exactly what they see when they see it. I'm sixty years old, do you think I have no wisdom?'

'I don't mean to imply that. I know myself quite well and... I just want to get back to being normal. Like I was before.'

'Before what exactly?' He whispered his question and the sound of his mouth moving tinkled.

'Before I turned thirty and started getting a bit wobbly in the head. And then definitely before Alex, my husband, left. Things were fine then. If only...' She trailed off, unsure why she was revealing herself to a stranger. Was it the exhaustion?

'Sophie, often the Universe is giving us a great gift by pushing us one way or the other, even if it pushes us into great discomfort. Consider that it has all happened for a reason. And if you truly look at it, get wildly honest with yourself, were things truly fine? Or is it a case of peering back over our past with rose coloured glasses?'

An intense hatred rose in Sophie. How dare this man who knew nothing about her cast such pedestrian assertions. 'Actually, I'm quite aware that things were fine, thank you. Not everything is a moment to be analysed.'

'If you say so. I believe you.' He leant closer to her and blinked slowly and her annoyance slipped away quietly, replaced by the familiar lethargy.

Like a tag team, Everley came back and Clive slid away.

‘Sophie, I’m so sorry to tell you this. I know you’re keen to get home but our nurse is running a little late. She shouldn’t be too far off,’ Everley claimed, embarrassment creeping up her face.

Promising an early dinner as compensation for the delay in the nurse returning from the city, Everley helped Sophie to her feet, one of which was encased in pins and needles, like she had stepped on an echidna's back. With her arm slung around Everley's sharp shoulders, Sophie was shuffled carefully towards the big shed. She could not deny that she was ravenous. The thought of food lured her more than her desire to find Alex in that moment.

As she was unhurriedly moved to the shed, Sophie had time to take in her surroundings even more. To the side of the shed, a little obscured from the rest of the camp, was an enormous herb garden. Sophie looked across it in awe, with its glistening array of greys, lavender and olive coloured plants. Rows and rows of sage, wormwood, wild fennel, mint, lemon balm, borage and clumps of aloe vera in each corner. Everywhere, mandrake plants held the family of herbs together. There were small pink salvia flowers that smelt like passionfruit and cinnamon made the air rich with its potency. Lavender bushes stood to attention, like grey soldiers, begging to be knocked down. Furry leaves of sage brushed at Sophie's calves in her imagination begging to be crushed between her fingers.

The garden was divided into smaller rectangles to allow for walking paths in between the rows of perfectly lined up plants, all sectioned with hedges of rosemary. In the centre of the herb garden sat a wide copper birdbath, green with age. The birdbath was the size of a wagon wheel and nearly as tall as Sophie. She could hear it hum against the motion of the breeze and she yearned to climb up into it and wash herself clean. Birds darted back and forth, to seek their rewards as the herbs stood guard