Nicola Barker - Behindlings

Before she’d even had a chance to prepare herself, Wesley tightened the lassoo, and began pulling her forward.

He was strong. The deer grunted then shuffled as the girl’s body shifted.

‘You stay the hell where you are,’ Wesley shouted, pointing at it.

‘He doesn’t respond to…’

‘ Blah, ’ Wesley said, pushing his shoulder past Arthur and easing her further.

‘The boat’s really swaying,’ Arthur warned him.

‘Thanks for that, Art,’ Wesley muttered as Sasha finally drew close enough for him to offer her his free hand. The bad hand.

Sasha saw the hand and froze for a millisecond, then frowned, grabbed at it and rose unsteadily to her feet.

Wes indicated briskly towards the walkway, barely looking at her, tying the other end of the lassoo to his waist, then transferring the rope connecting him to the horse from around his hips to hers.

‘Run over it quickly,’ he said, ‘spread your weight evenly between both planks, but lightly. We’re linked up in two different ways. Try not to trip. If you do fall, though, you’re tied both to me and to the pony. We’ll get you out…’ he paused, somewhat meanly, ‘ eventually. If you do fall,’ he repeated (almost as if savouring the thought), ‘then try and keep upright, push your legs and knees and feet together. Fall straight. It’s safer.’

‘I know how to fall,’ she interrupted, ‘but there’s rocks under the mud down there…’

Wesley grunted and gave her a sharp little push to set her on her way.

The bad hand.

Arthur saw the shove and was appalled, but Sasha responded well to it, setting off at a light, snaking trot and reaching the other side without undue mishap.

Not so the craft, which jolted — side to side — with a horrible creaking and then dropped — even further — at the back. An inch? Three inches?

Sasha turned around, pulled the two ropes off and tied them together, her eyes wide with a sudden anxiety — as if the feel of solid land, the fact of her now almost certain safety, had somehow made everything seem paradoxically scarier. ‘Please don’t forget Brion, ’ she shouted dramatically, ‘he’s my only friend in all the world. ’

‘Holy bosh, ’ Wesley muttered, rapidly reeling the rope back in. ‘You’re next, Art. Try and stand so you can loosen up your legs a little first

‘No,’ Arthur was staring at the small girl with an unusually bright — yet exceptionally morbid — expression on his face.

‘No,’ he repeated, and shook his head, ‘the deer.’

Sasha was listening, had heard him. She whooped and bounced, punching her arm into the air.

‘ Pardon? ’

Wesley couldn’t understand.

‘The deer, ’ Arthur repeated, ‘rope it up.’

Wesley was silent. ‘When the deer goes,’ he finally spoke, ‘this whole structure goes with it. You do know that?’

‘I don’t care.’ Arthur stuck his chin out. ‘She’s a good girl. She loves that damn animal.’

‘ Go Brion!’

The girl yelled. The deer began moving in response to her call. The boat tipped.

‘ Shut the fuck up,’ Wesley bellowed.

The deer froze. Sasha froze.

The boat shifted back. Creaked.

‘I am climbing off this thing alone, Art,’ Wes said, barely regaining his composure, ‘and leaving you here, before I take that moronic bovine off first.’

‘Fine,’ Arthur shrugged, ‘I’ll lead the deer off myself.’

‘ Thank you Art,’ the girl yelled.

Arthur raised his arm in an uncertain royal salute, like a visiting first-world sovereign attending a mysterious cultural event in the colonies –

I am a visitor here

In this beautiful land

‘Don’t be ridiculous, ’ Wesley spat. He was clenching his teeth, ‘Deer swim perfectly well. I’ll lassoo him. He’ll be fine. But if this thing goes down with you still on board, you’re fucked. ’

‘I thought you liked animals,’ Arthur said.

‘Pardon?’

‘I said I thought you were a friend to the animals…’ he paused, satirically, ‘like… like Dr Dolittle was.’

He suddenly realised that he was having a good time.

‘I do,’ Wesley muttered (plainly appreciating Arthur’s little victory over him, but still confused by it), ‘I am. ’

‘Well then.’

Arthur tried to neaten up his appearance. He pushed his hair back, rubbed his hand across his chin. Wesley watched him, scowling.

‘ Urgh, ’ the girl said, locating first the fox’s tail, then the rest of its cadaver. She picked up the tail and inspected it closely.

‘Perhaps,’ Wesley said gently, ‘your judgement’s been clouded a little by lack of sleep, Art.’ His tone — Arthur noted with some surprise — was almost respectful, if querulous.

‘I want the girl,’ Arthur’s teeth were chattering slightly again, but he was full — almost exploding — with a kind of crazy zeal, ‘to have her deer. She loves her deer. Didn’t you hear what she said before? Weren’t you listening? The deer is all she has in the world. ’

The girl looked up from the vixen’s carcass, having momentarily abandoned all thoughts of Brion’s safety.

‘ Yes, ’ she cheerleadered, suddenly catching up again, waving the tail in the air. ‘ Go, Art.’

Wesley gave Arthur a straight look, ‘You can’t be serious.’

Art nodded devoutly. Yes. Yes he was.

‘She’s an eight-year-old girl, Art.’

‘Nine.’

‘What?’

‘She’s nine.’

Wesley rubbed his hands over his face, ‘I don’t have enough rope to lassoo both you and the animal.’

‘And yourself.’

Arthur sniffed, then smiled, thinly. Provocatively.

‘Pardon?’

‘You don’t have enough rope for me, the deer, and yourself.’

Wesley was quiet for a second, processing. He detected a challenge. He liked challenges.

‘Of course you’re right,’ he mused ruminatively. ‘I don’t need the rope. I was only wearing it in the first place for the girl’s safety…’ He began to take the rope off.

The girl, meanwhile, had clambered part-way up the muddy bank and was peering off keenly to her right, her back as straight — her posture as rapt and attentive — as a wary prairie dog with the scent of a coyote on his territory.

Wesley leaned casually forward as he unwound the rope. He saw Ted, running towards them at full pelt (in his lovely handmade suit; like Carter, like James Bond ), followed — close behind — by Eileen. They looked a delightfully incongruous pair. They were soaking wet. Their legs were splattered with mud. They were both bright-cheeked and out of breath.

‘ I have more… ’ Ted yelled, gesticulating clumsily, ‘ I’ve brought… ’ He pulled the rope from his arm and then slid — hard on his arse — down the steep bank. The rope bounced out of his clutches and rolled straight into the river.

Plop

‘ Ouch, ’ the girl chuckled, lifting her shoulders, sniggering through her fingers, ‘you messed up.’ Ted winced and closed his eyes. Agonised.

‘Don’t worry, Ted,’ Wesley shouted over, ‘there’s more than enough rope here already for Art and the deer.’

‘I won’t be needing any rope,’ Arthur murmured, haughtily.

Wesley stopped smiling.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘If you don’t need any rope,’ Arthur attempted to struggle to his feet (failed abysmally), ‘then nor do I.’