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“What’s so important about it?” I ask Raffaela on one of our morning checks around the river. Apart from the fact that all three of us feel somewhat guilty that it was handed over because of us.
“Spiritually or pragmatically?” she asks.
“What do you think?”
“I swear to God, if you go out there it will change your perspective on the world.”
“Don’t believe in God. Love the world just the way it is.”
“Okay, then come and look at it from a pragmatic point of view.”
“Townie territory,” Ben says. “If it’s booby trapped…”
“It’s seven o’clock in the morning,” she reassures us. “They’ll never be up this early.”
The Prayer Tree is located smack in the middle of the property within easy distance of the Jellicoe Road. It’s the area I am the least familiar with because it’s closer to the township and there are no proper tracks to reach it from where we are. In actual fact it is a chore getting to it and in the future Ben advises that we should hit the Jellicoe Road and access it from there.
By the time we reach the clearing we have grazes from flying branches and our bodies itch from insect bites. The clearing is small and the tree takes up most of it. I look up and am shocked at just how massive it is. It’s almost like Jack’s beanstalk and probably one of the highest trees I’ve ever seen on this property. Right at the very top, lodged amongst the branches, is a small house, cleverly camouflaged by a creative paint job. But it’s the trunk that fascinates me the most. There are carvings and symbols and messages and history.
So much romance and so much ugliness. A girl named Bro
The messages are everything rolled into one. Wise and uncool. Profound and repugnant.
We circle the tree over and over again, trying to decipher all the messages.
Do you remember nothing stopped us on the field in our day?
I stare at the words, tracing my fingers in the grooves created by the carving.
“Your hands are shaking,” Ben says.
Because I’ve heard these words so many times before.
“Check this one out,” Ben says to me.
Ke
“Who?” I ask, still wanting to return to my dream lyrics.
“You don’t know who Ke
It’s like he’s speaking another language and he shakes his head with great disappointment.
“You need to get in touch with the seventies and eighties, my friend.”
I find myself reaching up and touching words engraved right in the middle of the tree. It’s bigger writing than the rest. MATTHEW 10:26.
“Maybe it’s one of those ‘God is Love’ quotes,” Raffaela says, coming up behind me. I think of Ha
“So where’s the pragmatism you promised me?” I ask.
She points up. “We have to go up for me to show you that.”
Hanging off the tree is one of those floppy rope ladders like in a trapeze act, except that here there is no net. Raffaela grabs hold of it.
“How do you know it’s secure?” I ask.
She tugs at it and shrugs. “I just do. Santangelo’s anal about things like this.”
She begins climbing and the ladder swings around. “One at a time, though,” she yells down.
I look at Ben. “You’re next.”
It’s not like I’m scared of heights. There’s been many a night that I’ve climbed out of my window and swung off the tree just outside it. But this thing is massive and I think I’d rather be climbing branches than a flimsy ladder that’s attached to nothing I can see.
By the time it’s my turn, Ben has already freaked me out with his dramatics. I begin the ascent, concentrating hard on each step, making sure that my foot is on the next rung before I step off the previous one.
When I reach the top, Raffaela and Ben help me up.
“Close your eyes,” Raffaela instructs.
“Are you insane?”
“You’re on solid timber,” she reassures me. “It’s very sound and we’re holding on to you, anyway. You’ve got to close your eyes.”
I’m convinced that if I hear something about being able to see tomorrow and it’s bloody beautiful I’ll throw myself off. I stand up straight, however, and close my eyes.
“Open.”
I’m standing on a landing, the wall of the tree house behind me. Directly across my torso is a piece of wood, preventing me from falling over the side.
Raffaela points in front of me. “The town.” She turns me to the left. “Cadets.” Then she turns me to the right. “Us.”
The tree house has the most amazing and comprehensive view I have ever seen. Hills and valleys and houses and steeples, symmetrically cut farm blocks and vineyards. It is lush and hazy in the morning glow and I feel a rush of something inside me. I turn to the right and look in the direction of our Houses. I can see the six of them, looking closer than they actually are to each other. I see the little cottages in between that belong to the House co-ordinators and beyond that I see Ha
“They can see everything,” I say.
“With a good pair of binoculars they’d be able to see inside our rooms,” Raffaela says.
I turn to look at the Cadets, already out of their tents and preparing for the day.
“Who needs satellites?” Ben says.
“That’s what interests them the most,” Raffaela says pointing. The Jellicoe Road.
“They have a bird’s-eye view of every single part of this area. If they are up to no good, they know exactly when someone’s coming up or coming closer.”
“So they’re spying on us.”
“I actually don’t think so. I think they love the view and it’s a pretty good space for just hanging out,” she says, walking inside the tree house. Surprisingly it is solidly built and we follow her in, sitting on the floor, taking in the space and possibilities. “I think the eighties mob named it and built a makeshift something up here. I don’t think it’s ever been as solid as it is now, but that’s a Santangelo thing. I think he even wants to tile it. That’s the wog in him.”
“So you used to come up here when we owned it?”
She nods and smiles. “Anyone who was at the school and came from the town did. Come on. Look at the view. It’s awesome. God’s country.”
“You can take the girl out of the town but you can’t take the clichéd Townie out of the girl,” Ben says.
“Well, it is!”
“Bet you’ve been up here with Santangelo,” Ben says.
She goes red and walks out onto the landing. We follow her and breathe in the freshness.
“They want to meet again. Tomorrow night. This time in the Club House,” she says.
“Have the Cadets agreed?”
“They think so. They reckon you’re never too sure with Jonah Griggs.”
On the Jellicoe Road a car appears in the distance.
“Townies,” Raffaela says. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get out of here.”
I go down last, taking a closer look at Ha
Later on that night, I’m awakened by a sound. I stay still for a moment, my ears alert, heart racing, wondering if it was just one of those loud bumps in dreams that don’t actually exist. When I can’t get back to sleep, I get out of bed and quietly make my way down the stairs. I hear the breathing of those in the dorms and stand at their door for a while, watching them. I notice Chloe P. in someone else’s bed, clutching onto her for dear life, and there’s Jessa in the corner, snoring quietly and contently. The music of it all brings a smile to my face. A candle burns in the corner and I go over and blow it out.