The Dream Archipelago

‘You spurned me. You humiliated me. Now I have to go back to my family, and they will know what has happened, what has not happened.’

  ‘Is that what you’re doing?’ Sheeld said. ‘You lied about the insect?’

  ‘You pretended you wanted me. You allowed me to show you how much I wanted you. Then you said no. Now all you are thinking about is the damned insect.’

  Sheeld was standing in the centre of the path, where no vegetation was overhanging, where the ground was not broken. He looked on all sides, peering into the long grasses and ferns on each side of the path, trying to see past bushes.

  ‘You said islanders no longer took revenge,’ he said, and he shuddered. Sweat was pouring down his face, through his shirt, wetting the palms of his hands. His throat was drier than ever.

  ‘That’s true. You seem to know nothing about women, though.’ She bent down, close to where they had been standing a few moments before. ‘I’ll show you what I saw on the ground.’

  She picked up a dark, round object, covered in leaves. Sheeld felt an instinct to step further back from her but she calmly unfolded the outer leaves and tossed them aside. Inside was a dull-green sphere about the size of a large grapefruit.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Just a fruit,’ she said. ‘I told you. The juice is refreshing to drink.’

  She broke the outer skin and peeled off a part of the fruit. She put it into her mouth, and chewed and sucked at it noisily.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she said, swallowing. She held out a second piece towards him. ‘Want to try it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought you were thirsty.’

  ‘Not for that. What is it?’

  ‘A fruit,’ she said. ‘It grows on most of the islands, but it doesn’t travel well. You pick it and eat it as you find it.’ She held up another segment. ‘In an hour or two it will have started to ferment because I broke the skin, so I eat it now.’

  ‘What sort of fruit is it? What’s it called?’

  ‘If I told you that you wouldn’t taste it even if it was the last food in the world.’

  ‘You might as well tell me, because I’ve no intention of having any of it.’

  ‘It’s called a puthryme,’ she said, smiling at him again.

  ‘That sounds like …’

  ‘It’s called a puthryme because it grows on a tree where the thryme will sometimes nest. Some people will never try the fruit, for the same reason as you. They fear the insect more than they want to experience the taste.’ She held out one of the long green segments. ‘Why don’t you try it?’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘Because of its name? Because of what I told you?’

  ‘I don’t want it.’ It was as much truth as he felt like admitting, that he did not like the look of it.

  ‘In the islands two people who are no longer friends eat the puthryme together to show forgiveness.’

  ‘Another charming custom.’

  ‘You have offended me, and soon you will be leaving. Probably, we shall never see each other again. We are no longer friends. It would be a way of parting on even terms.’

  ‘We were never friends, Alanya. We have barely met.’

  ‘But I feel a grievance against you.’

  ‘Let’s leave things as they are.’

  ‘If you wish,’ said Alanya.

  Soon afterwards they reached the edge of the forest and walked out on to the lawn of the walled garden. Many of the guests appeared to have left, or at least had moved away from the garden. The servants had cleared away all traces of the earlier meal, but now were resetting the long tables for another. There was no food or drink in sight.

  A group of women stood by the verandah. As soon as they noticed Sheeld and Alanya returning there was a reaction. One of the women headed out of the garden and walked off in the direction of the house. Another came over to speak to Alanya.

  Ignoring Sheeld, she said, ‘Alanya, Fertin has been asking for you.’

  ‘I can’t talk to him now.’

  ‘He said you and M. Sheeld were to go and see him as soon as you returned from your walk.’

  ‘I’m busy, Maëve. He can wait.’

  Alanya turned away and went slowly across the lawn to the two long tables. She took another piece of fruit. Juice welled from her mouth and rolled down her chin, but she caught it expertly with a napkin she picked up quickly from the table.

  ‘Who did she mean?’ said Sheeld.

  ‘Fertin is Corrin Mercier’s elder son,’ she said. ‘You were introduced to him when you arrived.’

  ‘I remember now. A relative of yours.’

  ‘Of course. We are all relatives here.’

  ‘Why should he want to see both of us?’

  ‘He thinks he is so important.’ She gestured in an irritated way towards where the women had been. Only Maëve and one other remained by the verandah. Both were watching them. ‘You and Fertin are the same, you know. When I am not here, I have a career, a life. I travel on business, representing a large company. They pay me well, they commit huge sums of corporate money on the basis of my decisions. Yet when I am in the family, as here, you would think that I have no life beyond the one of a sexually subservient woman. Men treat us so. Fertin wants my soul, you want my body. But then Fertin rejects my soul, you reject my body. Here … you need this.’

  She thrust the fruit towards him.

  ‘I don’t want it.’

  ‘Take it. There’s no water.’

  Reluctantly, he did. He was convinced now she was deranged in some way. Nothing made sense, except that the longer he stayed in the environment of the house the more vulnerable he felt. But vulnerable to what? He had done nothing wrong, hardly even in his thoughts.

  ‘It’s time I left.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said without looking at him. ‘Eat some fruit with me before you go. It is a symbol that would mean much to me.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  But as he headed towards the gate out of the walled garden, he was still holding the fruit.

  *

  A servant said, ‘May we oblige you in any matter, sir?’

  ‘No, I have to leave now. But thank you.’

  ‘Mme. Mercier is resting at present. She has asked not to be disturbed until the evening meal is ready.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’ Sheeld was disturbed by the way the man was standing, ostentatiously barring his way. ‘Would you kindly give Mme. Mercier my condolences once more, and please explain that I was not able to stay for dinner as I have to catch the evening ferry.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He did not shift.

  ‘Then do you require anything else of me?’

  ‘Of course not, sir. But do you wish to remain here in the garden, or would you prefer to join some of the other guests in the house?’

  ‘No, I’m leaving.’

  ‘That’s not possible, sir. I have explained about Mme. Mercier.’

  ‘And I have explained about the ferry.’ Sheeld wanted the conversation to end.

  ‘We are well aware of the ferries from the island, sir.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  Sheeld pushed past the man and headed for the gateway. Two other male servants appeared from beyond the wall and closed in on him the moment he appeared in the gap. This time there was no appearance of courtesy. They brusquely manhandled him back through the gateway into the walled garden.

  Since she was the only person he had spoken to, from whom he might expect the least part of understanding, Sheeld looked for Alanya. He had left her beside one of the long tables, but when he went back there was no sign of her.

  He looked around in surprise. The garden was well filled with shrubbery and trees and ornamental beds, but there were few if any places anyone could disappear into. Yet not only Alanya but the group of women, of whom Maëve had been one, had also vanished. It was a mystery, because apart from the path into the rainforest, the only apparent way out of the garden was through the gateway where he had been speak
ing to the servant. He did not remember anyone passing while he was there, and he would certainly have noticed Alanya if she had left that way.

  With a great deal of apprehension he walked back to the servant, who visibly stiffened as Sheeld approached.

  ‘Where is Alanya Mercier?’ Sheeld said.

  ‘As I told you, sir, Mme. Mercier does not wish to be disturbed until later.’

  ‘But you meant Mme. Gilda Mercier, did you not?’

  ‘No, sir. I spoke of Mme. Alanya Mercier.’

  Sheeld took that in, but could not comprehend its meaning.

  ‘But Alanya Mercier was here just now. Not in the house!’

  ‘I am expected only to convey messages, sir. That is what I have done.’

  ‘Where is everyone else?’ Sheeld said.

  ‘They have returned for the time being to the house. But my instructions are that you are to remain here. May I oblige you in any other matter, sir?’

  ‘No!’

  Sheeld walked back into the walled, ornamental garden. Apart from the servants, who appeared to be taking no notice of him, he was now the only person there. He walked around, feeling as if he was being watched from every corner. The sun beat down on him relentlessly.

  A jet aircraft went by high overhead, wheeling to the right in a broad circle, tracing a line of curving condensation across the bright blue sky.

  An hour later Sheeld was feeling seriously uncomfortable. He had sat for as long as possible in the shade beneath the verandah, but the air was stifling hot and he was desperate for liquid. The only servants remaining were the two who guarded the gateway and although the tables had been reset for the next meal there was still no food or drink. The toilet marquee had been removed. There was not even a faucet for a garden hose or sprinkler. How Alanya and the others had left the garden without him seeing remained a mystery. Obviously there must be another way out of the garden and back to the house, but although he walked slowly round the entire garden he found no clue of it.

  There was still the rest of the fruit Alanya had picked, with her promise that it was refreshing to eat, but the irrational fear in him had made him put it off until the last possible moment.

  The moment had, however, arrived. When his thirst finally became too much for him Sheeld went across to the gate guards and asked them to let him have some water, but they ignored him.

  It was this, as much as his real sense of confinement for the last hour or more, that convinced him he had become a prisoner.

  He returned to the table where he had placed the fruit, and retrieved it. He remembered how Alanya had been eating it earlier and so he stripped off some of the remaining outer leaves to reveal the segments beneath. He broke off one of these and bit into it before he could change his mind.

  Because he had not known what to expect the combination of the fruit’s flavour and texture, both of which were unexpected, made him want to spit it out again. The fruit was dry and crisp, like a sliver of fried potato, not at all the refreshing treat Alanya had described. When he bit into it, though, the crispness yielded as a green apple will yield, and the inside turned out to be attractively firm and moist. The flavour was extraordinary: it spread out to fill his mouth like a distilled liqueur, and had a sweet muskiness to it that was more surprising than unpleasant. He chewed it cautiously, quickly deciding that he did not after all dislike it. On the contrary, as he chewed the pieces in his mouth into smaller morsels, the taste became positively pleasant and imparted a feeling of wonderful freshness to his mouth.

  When he had finished the first segment, he took another, wishing now that Alanya had left more of it for him.

  He walked to and fro across the walled garden, eating the fruit, enjoying it, forcing himself to take it in steady portions so as to make it last a little longer. Alanya had been right: for some reason that was hard to pinpoint it was more refreshing than cold spring water.

  Removing the segments revealed the central core of the fruit, yellow and spherical. As he finished the last of the segments, Sheeld toyed with the kernel in his hand, wondering if it too was edible. It had roughly the colour and surface texture as a ripe apricot, and had the same furry feel to it. At the bottom, where the segments had broken off, there were the remains of the stalk, but apart from that the surface was unblemished. He sniffed it, rubbing the surface with his thumb. He smelt a mild sweetness, like that of the fragrance of the segments.

  He went to one of the long tables and took a knife from where it had been set. He cut the yellow fruit in half, then laid both parts on a porcelain plate and looked carefully at them.

  The inside was yellow, moist and fibrous, with dozens of tiny black pips suspended in the flesh. Sheeld prodded it with his finger, found that the fruit was cool and firm, and a cautious sniff confirmed that it was much the same as the segments, and therefore probably safe to eat.

  He slipped one of the hemispheres into his mouth, and pressed it gently with his tongue.

  It was sweet and delicious, like a ripe orange. Once again the sensation of flavour spreading around his mouth was irresistible, but as soon as he broke through the soft fibres the flesh of the fruit became rubbery and tended to stick to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He wished he had not taken so much at once.

  He could feel the pips inside the fleshy mass, small and hard. He looked around for somewhere he could spit the fruit out, because he was no longer enjoying it. He tried to work the mass into a small bulk, so he could slip it out into his hand, but in doing so he accidentally crushed one of the pips between his teeth. He felt it break apart. At once a stronger flavour, bitter and putrid, overwhelmed the rest. Disliking it intensely he swallowed quickly, trying to get rid of the fruit. Some of it went down, the rest remained gummily around his teeth. He worked at it with his tongue, feeling the little hard pips everywhere. He was careful not to bite any more of those.

  Gradually he managed to swallow the rest, then he cleaned around his gums with his tongue and fingers. There were pips in many of the crevices between his teeth, and either he removed these with a fingernail or swallowed them. He succeeded in not breaking any more. He spat on the grass several times.

  Now he stood in the garden, working his tongue, swallowing frequently, trying to banish all last remnants of the taste of the fruit. The bitterness remained, sour and disgusting, entirely removing the earlier pleasant effect of the rest of the fruit.

  When he looked up and turned around, the garden had filled again with funeral guests.

  Two servants walked towards him from the entrance. Fertin Mercier followed them. A short distance behind him, Alanya followed.

  Sheeld stepped back, feeling threatened by their approach. The long table was behind him and he retreated until he felt his backside pressing against the edge. He put a hand back to steady himself, and it fell on the hemisphere of fruit he had not tried to eat.

  ‘Is this the man?’ Mercier said to Alanya.

  ‘Yes, you know it is.’ She flashed a look at Sheeld, but what meaning or intent it contained was lost on him.

  ‘When you came to the Dream Archipelago,’ Fertin Mercier said to Sheeld without preamble, ‘you exercised an option to become an islander. You accepted our customs as you found them and you therefore took them to yourself. The law for one island is respected by all the others, and island law demands justice for what you did here today.’

  Sheeld said, ‘I’ve done nothing, and I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘That’s an arguable point, and it is what I want you to tell me. According to what I witnessed for myself, and what many other members of my family also saw, you left this garden alone with my wife and were absent with her for more than an hour. What were the two of you doing together?’

  ‘Nothing occurred between us.’

  ‘Nothing?’ Fertin Mercier looked at Alanya beside him, but she made no perceptible response.

  ‘Say it again, M. Sheeld.’

  ‘Nothing of any kind happened. We simply took a walk to t
he clifftop to admire the view, then we returned.’

  Mercier nodded. ‘That much at least seems to confirm what my wife has said.’

  ‘Well, then—’

  ‘But you see, Graian Sheeld, I know what my wife had in mind when you left together, because she has acted like this many times before, with other men. She has as good as admitted it.’

  ‘I’m not answerable for your wife’s behaviour. In my view, based on what I’ve seen of her behaviour, she needs—’

  ‘My wife is sexually responsible, M. Sheeld. Her behaviour, as you call it, is not your concern but mine. She has her rights as an adult, but so too do I.’

  ‘I assure you nothing at happened between us,’ Sheeld said again, painfully aware not only that Alanya was hearing every word, but that the other members of the family were listening too.

  ‘You did not make love to my wife, rape her, seduce her, debauch her, ravish her? Is she not attractive to you?’

  ‘She is extremely attractive, of course,’ Sheeld said, thinking back to the few minutes when she had seemed so to him, and wondering whether his position was made worse or better by admitting it.

  ‘Yet you say you resisted the temptation she laid before you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is what she says too. You concur.’

  ‘All I can say, M. Mercier,’ Sheeld said, with sudden sincerity. ‘All I can do now is apologize to you if I have somehow transgressed either your hospitality or your traditions. I am a stranger here, I meant no harm and I am embarrassed that I have caused you anger or upset.’

  ‘Yes, you are a stranger here, aren’t you?’

  ‘I can’t help that.’

  ‘Nor it seems can you help the fact that either you have embarrassed me in front of my family, should you have had knowledge of my wife, or you have humiliated my wife by refusing her. Which is to be?’

  ‘I’ve already apologized to your … to Alanya.’

  ‘So she tells me.’

  The rest of the family were now grouped in a loose semicircle around the quiet confrontation. He thought: what culture is it where a man publicly confronts another man he suspects of having cuckolded him, while he does not know the truth? Sheeld felt again a powerful wish to be away from the place, back in the town, in the port, waiting for a ferry, enjoying the safety of the cosmopolitan company of fellow travellers, all intent on their own destinations.