The men on the station were obsessed with themselves and what they imagined their roles to be; they spoke in abstracts about group psychology, social readjustment, patterns of behaviour… and in her more cynical moods she found such an outlook simply pathetic. Apart from the unfortunate Tony Chappell, she had formed no kind of interest in any of the men, which was not as she had anticipated at all before she arrived.
Helward was different. She refrained from spelling it out to herself, but she knew why she was riding out to find him.
She found the place on the river-bank, and allowed her horse to drink. Later, she tethered it in the shade, and sat down by the water to wait. Again she tried to blank out the turmoil of mental activity: thoughts, desires, questions. Concentrating hard on the physical environment, she lay back on the bank in the sunshine and closed her eyes. She listened to the sound of the water as it ran across the pebbles of the river-bed, the sound of the gentle wind in the trees, the humming of insects, the smell of dry undergrowth, hot soil, warmth.
A long time passed. Behind her, the horse whisked its tail every few seconds, patiently flicking away the swarm of flies.
She opened her eyes as soon as she heard the sound of the other horse, and sat up.
Helward was there on the opposite bank. He raised his hand in greeting, and she waved back.
He dismounted immediately, and walked quickly along the bank until he was opposite her. She smiled to herself: he was evidently in high spirits because he was fooling around, trying to amuse her. When he stood opposite her, he leaned forward for some reason and tried to stand on his hands. After two attempts he made it, then toppled right over and landed with a shout and a splash in the river.
Elizabeth jumped up, and ran through the shallow water towards him.
“Are you all right?” she said.
He grinned at her. “I could do that when I was a kid.”
“So could I.”
He stood up, looking down ruefully at his soaked clothes.
“They’ll soon dry,” she said.
“I’ll get my horse.”
They splashed back through the river to the other side, and Helward stood his horse next to Elizabeth’s. She sat down on the bank again, and Helward sat close beside her, stretching out his legs in the sun so that his clothes might dry.
Behind them the horses stood nose to tail, whisking away the flies from each other’s face.
Questions, questions… but she suppressed them all. She enjoyed the intrigue, didn’t want to destroy it with understanding. The rational account was that he was an operative from a station similar to hers, and that he was enjoying an elaborate and somewhat pointless joke at her expense. If that was so, she didn’t care; his presence was enough, and she was herself sufficiently emotionally suppressed to relish the break with routine he was unwittingly bringing her.
The only common bond she knew of was his sketches, and she asked to see them again. For a while they talked about the drawings, and he expressed his various enthusiasms; she was interested to see that all the sketches were on the back of old computer print-out paper.
Eventually, he said: “I thought you were a took.”
He pronounced it with a long vowel, like shoot.
“What’s that?”
“One of the people who live round here. But they don’t speak English.”
“A few do. Not very well. Only when we teach them.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“The people I work for.”
“You’re not from the city?” he said suddenly, then looked away.
Elizabeth felt a glimmer of alarm; he had looked and acted like this the day before, and then he had suddenly left. She didn’t want that, not now.
“Do you mean your city?”
“No… of course you’re not. Who are you?”
“You know my name,” she said.
“Yes, but where are you from?”
“England. I came here about two months ago.”
“England… that’s on Earth isn’t it?” He was staring at her intently, the drawings forgotten now.
She laughed, a nervous reaction to the strangeness of the question.
“It was the last time I was there,” she said, trying to make a joke of it.
“My God! Then—”
“What?”
He stood up abruptly, and turned away from her. He took a few steps, then turned again and stood over her, staring down.
“You’ve come from Earth?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you from Earth… the planet?”
“Of course… I don’t understand.”
“You’re looking for us,” he said.
“No! I mean… I’m not sure.”
“You’ve found us!”
She stood up, backed away from him.
She waited by the horses. The aura of strangeness had become one of madness, and she knew she should leave. The next move must come from him.
“Elizabeth… don’t go.”
“Liz,” she said.
“Liz… do you know who I am? I’m from the city of Earth. You must know what that means!”
“No, I don’t.”
“You haven’t heard about us?”
“No.”
“We’ve been here for thousands of miles… many years. Nearly two hundred.”
“Where is the city?”
He waved his arm in the direction of the north-east. “Down there. About twenty-five miles to the south.”
She didn’t react to the contradiction of direction, assumed he had made a mistake.
“Can I see the city?” she said.
“Of course!” He took her hand excitedly, and placed it on the rein of her horse. “We’ll go now!”
“Wait… How do you spell the name of your city?”
He spelt it for her.
“Why is it called that?”
“I don’t know. Because we are from the planet Earth, I suppose.”
“Why do you differentiate between the two?”
“Because… isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
She realized she was humouring him as if he were a maniac, but it was only excitement that shone in his eyes, not mania. Her instinct, though, on which she had been so dependent recently, warned her to be careful. She could not be sure of anything now.
“But this is not Earth!”
She said: “Helward… meet me here tomorrow. By the stream.”
“I thought you wanted to see our city.”
“Yes… but not today. If it is twenty-five miles away, I would have to get a fresh horse, tell my superiors.” She was making excuses.
He looked at her uncertainly.
“You think I’m making it up,” he said.
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong? I tell you, as long as I can remember, and for many years before I was born, the city has survived in the hope that help would come from Earth. Now you are here and you think I am mad!”
“You are on Earth.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again.
“Why do you say that?” he said.
“Why should I say otherwise?”
He took her arm again, and whirled her round. He pointed upwards.
“What do you see?”
She shielded her eyes against the glare. “The sun.”
“The sun! The sun! What about the sun?”
“Nothing. Let go of my arm… you’re hurting me!”
He released her, and scrambled over to the discarded drawings. He took the top one, held it out for her to see.
“That is the sun!” he shouted, pointing at the weird shape that was drawn at the top right of the picture, a few inches away from the spindly figure that he said was her. “There is the sun!”
Heart beating furiously, she tore the rein away from the tree around which it was tied, climbed up into the saddle, and kicked in her heels. The horse wheeled round, and she galloped it away from the river.
Behind her, Helward stood, still holding out his drawing.