When I first arrived in Knysna I knew absolutely no-one in the town and I was somewhat challenged as to how I would go about finding the stories that I required for my book. I tried a number of different approaches, one of which was to place an advertisement in the Action Ads, a weekly publication of classified advertisements, which is freely available just about everywhere in Knysna. My ad read:
Have YOU had a supernatural encounter
in the Knysna forests?
TELL ME YOUR STORY
It could possibly be included in a book!
As it turned out, I received only one positive response to my advertisement, but it did lead to the very first story of this book.
I was contacted by a middle-aged woman called Evie. She told me that she had lived next door to a lovely old lady, named Lucy Baldwin, whilst growing up. Lucy and Evie, despite the large age gap, became firm friends and Evie would spend Saturday afternoons with the delightfully eccentric old woman, baking cookies, doing art projects or simply chatting. Lucy shared with Evie the story of her life and her several encounters with the Lady, as she called her, during these Saturday afternoon visits.
The first part of the tale below is based upon Evie’s memories of the stories that Lucy had shared with her over the years. The final part of Lucy’s story was purely a product of Evie’s imagination, but I liked it so much that I decided to include it in my book. When I tried to pay Evie for the story, she refused, saying, “It’s not my story, but Lucy’s. But I know that she would have loved to have had it included in your book. So please do use it and do her proud. This is my way of remembering a lovely old lady and a wonderful friend, who was such a positive influence in my life.” This, then, is Lucy’s story.
***
The first time Lucy saw the Lady she was only four years old. Although the house was full of people murmuring in hushed tones over endless cups of cooling tea and fishpaste sandwiches with curled-up edges, nobody noticed Lucy slipping away through the kitchen door and tip-toeing down the weed-choked garden path. At the bottom of the garden the overgrown honeysuckle bush hid from sight the loose board in the fence that Lucy had discovered a week earlier when she had been banished outdoors whilst the grown-ups whispered with furrowed brows and furtive tears. The little girl slipped behind the honeysuckle bush and crawled through the gap in the fence, allowing the loose board to swing back into place behind her.
Lucy found herself in a bramble- and nettle-infested tangle; the wild grasses tickling her snub little nose as, for a moment; she experienced the thrill of her very first foray into illicit territory. Her mother had strictly forbidden her from venturing alone into the wild and forested area behind the house. A wave of sadness washed over Lucy as she remembered that her mother would never again forbid her to do anything and she stood in the sunshine, her bottom lip quivering as she gulped back tears whilst rubbing her eyes with her fists. She had never felt so alone in her entire short life. Just then, she was momentarily distracted from her sorrow by a sudden cacophonous chirruping, as a large flock of Cape White Eyes swooped right past her and into the thick forested area a few meters ahead. Looking around, Lucy noticed a narrow animal path stretching ahead through the brambles into the tangled thicket beneath the trees and, without a moment’s thought to the consequences of her actions, she set off down the path.
The tangled undergrowth was extremely dense, but the child was small and the spirit of adventure driving her progress was a welcome respite from her sadness as she burrowed along the animal track. After a while, the path broke through into a small clearing under the canopy of massive trees and Lucy looked around, trying to locate the way forward. She might have turned back at this point, as she suddenly remembered her parents’ warnings about the dangers of children getting lost in the forest, but then a beautiful, large, white butterfly fluttered past and disappeared between the trees and, without a second’s thought, Lucy ran after it, winding between the trees and crawling under brush in her attempts to keep the butterfly in sight.
After a short while Lucy lost sight of the butterfly, but now her attention was attracted by the brilliant orange bracket fungi growing on a dead tree up ahead, and so she meandered through the forest, her attention constantly diverted by some wonder or another. After about an hour, Lucy’s steps began to slow down and she became aware of the fact that she was tired and thirsty, not to mention, extremely hungry. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten any lunch and that she had only managed a few spoonfuls of cereal that morning; her father and aunt being far too distracted by all the funeral arrangements to notice. She also started to feel a little bit scared because she couldn’t remember how she had gotten to where she now found herself. When she also remembered that nobody knew that she had gone exploring, Lucy’s lower lip started to quiver and she whispered, “Mommy, mommy… Where are you?” her voice rising in agitation at the end of the sentence, as she remembered that her mommy had gone to heaven and that she wouldn’t be back again, ever. Now Lucy started to bawl in earnest; the intrepid adventurer giving way to a scared, lonely and lost little girl.
Suddenly there was a loud crashing in the trees above and a harsh, grating, cawing sound sent Lucy running for the relative safety of a nearby Yellowwood tree, where she crouched amongst the massive roots, hiding her face in her hands, her little heart wildly fluttering as she whimpered in fear.
After a while the realization gradually dawned upon Lucy that everything had become extremely quiet and she dared to peep through her fingers to check if she was safe. Lowering her hands, she gasped in surprise, as she noticed that the entire clearing was suffused in a softly glowing, green light. And, drifting through the light towards the little girl was the most beautiful Lady that she had ever seen. The Lady was very tall and slender, with pale green, luminous skin and long, tangled, dark-green hair, adorned with lichen, ferns and bits of bark. Although the Lady was clothed only in soft green light, it was the most beautiful raiment that Lucy had ever seen. As she stared in fascination, a small lizard crawled up the Lady’s arm and disappeared into her hair and two little birds landed on her outstretched hand, briefly preening before fluttering away into the treetops.
“Who… who are you?” whispered Lucy, who had completely forgotten her fear and sadness in her wonderment at the vision standing before her. The Lady gently smiled and came to a stop right in front of the tree under which Lucy was sheltering.
Lucy heard the Lady’s answer in her heart, “I am the Deva, the spirit who takes care of this forest. I think that perhaps you may be lost?” At that, Lucy remembered her plight and tears once more began to run down her cheeks. The Lady reached out a hand and, with one long, slender finger, she gathered Lucy’s teardrops, which rolled down into her hand, one-by-one. With her other hand she reached out and gently unwound a long, shimmering piece of silk from a spider web just above Lucy’s head. Then, with a few deft movements of her long, graceful hands, she threaded the teardrops onto the spider silk and tied the ends together behind her neck. Lucy forgot to cry as she stared in admiration at the exquisitely beautiful, iridescent teardrops sparkling against the Lady’s glowing green skin.
Then the Lady lifted her chin and made a soft, gentle sound like the wood pigeons that Lucy had often heard in the woodpile behind the cottage. “Coerrrr…” and Lucy gasped in amazement as the sound emerging from the Lady’s mouth transformed into a delicate white flower, which the Lady plucked from the air and dropped into Lucy’s lap. “Coerrrr…. coerrr… coerrr…” went the Lady until Lucy’s lap was filled with fragrant white flowers. Then Lucy’s strange companion plucked a long, green hair from her head and twined it through the flower stems, fashioning a beautiful crown of flowers, which, with the sweetest smile imaginable, she placed upon Lucy’s head.
The Lady stretched out her hand and, without a moment’s hesitation, despite all the warnings she had received about being wary of strangers, Lucy took the proffered hand and followed the Lady into the forest, feeling like a fairy princess with her crown of flowers. Everything looked different too, in the gentle green glow emitted by the Lady and now Lucy could see all kinds of forest animals, birds and reptiles and the plant life surrounding them, shimmering with energy and life. She could actually see the trees growing and breathing and every leaf, flower and twig was tended to by tiny, magical, fairylike creatures.
“Those are the sylphs, air elementals who look after the plants and make sure that they grow and flower,” the Deva whispered deep into Lucy’s heart. Lucy’s attention was captured by a fiery flash, as a small, lizard-like creature dashed across her path into the undergrowth. “That was a salamander, an earth elemental, responsible for the transformation of dead plant material into nutrients to support the growth of new plants,” the Lady informed Lucy. Lucy was absolutely enchanted; she had only ever heard about such mystical beings in the stories that her parents had read to her at bedtime. A whole new magical world was being revealed to her by her new friend.
“I need to take you back home now,” the Deva said to Lucy. “Your family will be worried about you.”
“But, I’d rather stay here with you,” Lucy protested.
“You can always come and visit the forest, little one,” smiled the Lady. “Walk into the forest with an open heart and you will find that the most wondrous experiences will always await you.” With that, she took Lucy’s hand again and they turned to go home. Although Lucy had been wandering deeper and deeper into the forest for quite some time earlier, it was only a matter of minutes before she was right back in the bramble-infested clearing, just outside her garden fence. The Lady kissed her on her forehead and a warm, gentle glow filled Lucy’s being as she pushed aside the loose plank and waved to the Lady before entering once more into her normal world.
For months thereafter Lucy would often slip through the fence and follow the animal track into the forest where she would spend hours calling for the Lady, but she was not to see her again for many years. However, her interest in the plants and animals of the forest, which had been awakened by her interaction with the Lady, grew steadily. She started to pay more attention to the forest around her and later, when she learned to read, she began to identify the names of the trees and plants that she encountered. This was to become her lifelong passion and, eventually, her livelihood. At first Lucy’s father was worried that she would get lost in the forest, but gradually he realized that she was perfectly fine on her own and eventually he capitulated to the inevitable and built a small gate in the fence so that Lucy could come and go at will.
After the death of her mother, Lucy’s father became silent and withdrawn. He spent most of his time in the spare bedroom, which he had converted into a study for himself, doing the translations that earned their keep, and latterly, doing online research for, and writing, the historical novels which would gradually become their sole source of income. Lucy knew that her father loved her, but he lived inside his own mind and simply didn’t notice much of what she did, or mostly even whether she was there or not. Every now and then, her father’s tall, gaunt and very stern sister, her aunt Edith, would come to visit for a holiday, and for a while Lucy’s meals and schoolwork would be supervised and new clothing would be purchased for her. But Aunt Edith, who was unmarried and childless, was uncomfortable and awkward around children and tended to fuss around her brother. So it was always a relief to all concerned when her holiday ended and things could go back to the way they normally were. Lucy attended the local primary school and did well academically, but she never really made friends with the other children, who reminded her of a twittering flock of silly little birds. Her real education took place after school, as she wandered through the forest, with a book in her hand, identifying plants and taking samples of leaves and flowers to draw and paint.
When Lucy was about twelve years old, a tall, stooped, balding man moved into the cottage next door. From the very beginning Lucy felt that there was something creepy about him and she hid behind her father when the man came round to introduce himself. “Good evening, sir, I’m Jack Brown, your new neighbour. And who is this pretty little angel?” he asked, licking his thick, red lips as he stretched out a hand to pinch Lucy’s cheek, his small, sunken eyes roving over her skinny, tanned legs that were inadequately covered by her too-small, skimpy sundress.
“Say hello to Mr. Brown, Lucy,” her father ordered and, with great reluctance, she shook the soft, clammy hand proffered. Later on Lucy told her father that she didn’t like Mr. Brown, but her father said that they should be kind to him because he had lost his forestry job for medical reasons and his wife had left him, taking their only child with her.
Mr. Brown seemed to spend all his time on his wraparound porch, snooping on the neighbourhood. Lucy made a point of walking the long way round to school so that she didn’t have to walk past Mr. Brown’s house, but somehow he always seemed to be watching her from his porch when she looked up from whatever she was doing in the yard. Lucy decided to time her visits to the forest when Mr. Brown went indoors, so she ended up spending a lot of time watching him too. On the rare occasions that Lucy’s father had to leave the house, Mr. Brown would invariably appear at Lucy’s front door, on some pretence or another, in an attempt to inveigle his way into their house. Lucy tried to talk to her father about the problem, but he thought that she was imagining it all.
One late summer afternoon Lucy slipped out into the forest when Mr. Brown had briefly disappeared indoors. She was busy trying to identify some mushrooms that had sprung up overnight after a few days of good rain, when suddenly the tranquillity was shattered by a rasping voice, “Well, just look what I’ve found – a little forest fairy! What are you doing, my angel?” Lucy whirled round to find Mr. Brown, standing right next to her, peering over her shoulder.
She backed up against the tree behind her and stuttered, “Um… Mr. Brown, how did you… um, I didn’t hear you,” Lucy faltered as she watched Mr. Brown lick his lips and step a little closer, grabbing her upper arm in a surprisingly tight grip.
“What a pretty little thing you are! Give your uncle Jack a kiss, sweetheart,” he growled, as he pulled her closer. Lucy watched in horror as the thick, wet lips descended towards her face. Her heart pounding, she instinctively kicked out at Mr. Brown’s shins, at the same time twisting her arm out of his grasp. “Little bitch! Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders?” she heard him spit out as he bent down to rub his shins, watching her sprint away into the forest.
In terror, Lucy ran blindly through the trees, Mr. Brown crashing through the undergrowth after her, cursing at the top of his lungs, “Dammit brat! Come back here! I’ll teach you a lesson or two you’ll never forget.” After a while Lucy reached the rocky outcrop that marked the border between the forest and the deep gorge up ahead. She could no longer hear anyone pursuing her and she sank down onto a rock, quivering with shock and exhaustion. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She would have to return home at some point soon, as it was getting late, but she was too afraid that Mr. Brown would be lying in wait for her, now that he had discovered the only path through the dense undergrowth into the forest. She had just decided to chance a stealthy return when, from behind a nearby tree, she heard a soft, wheedling voice, “Come out, little angel; you can’t escape your uncle Jack. Come out and play with me!” Lucy jumped up and stared wildly around her; there was no escape – she was right up against the rocky overhang, with the deep forested gorge below. As Mr. Brown emerged from behind a tree, he caught sight of her and smiled triumphantly, “Gotcha! Do you like to play games, my precious? Well, now it’s time for some grown-up games! Your uncle Jack was a forester, didn’t you realise? I know my way around here and I can move as silently as an owl if I want to.” Paralysed by terror, Lucy watched Mr. Brown advancing, as a mouse watches a snake.
Then, suddenly, she felt herself being pulled into a soft, gentle pair of arms and a green glow settled over her, as she heard a voice, deep within her heart, “Everything’s going to be fine, little one, just stay still, you’re safe.”
“What… where’s she gone…?” Mr. Brown spluttered as he waved his arms wildly in the general vicinity in which he had last seen Lucy. He was so close now that she could see the broken veins in his sunken eyes and the enlarged pores on his prominent, bulbous nose. “Where the hell are you, little bitch! Don’t think you will get away; I’ve got you!” Mr. Brown went crashing through the undergrowth right past Lucy. Her heart pounding in her ears, she realized that somehow the Lady had made her invisible to Mr. Brown. She looked up questioningly into her friend’s eyes, but the Lady put her finger to her lips and winked at Lucy. Mr. Brown was now alternating between violently beating the undergrowth a meter or two away with a stick and examining the rock face, trying to find a possible hidey hole. As he wandered ever closer to the cliff face, Lucy found herself holding her breath and then, suddenly, she glimpsed a rapid, fiery flash beneath Mr. Brown’s feet and he tripped, tumbling down into the gorge with a yell of terror. Lucy tore herself out of the Lady’s arms and ran to the edge to look, but Mr. Brown had disappeared from view.
“Is he… what happened?” Lucy was shivering and panting with shock. The Lady stood behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, which immediately calmed her down.
“This was his own choice and his destiny. He won’t be troubling you again,” her voice spoke directly into Lucy’s heart. Lucy started to cry and the Lady sank down onto the forest floor, cradling Lucy in her arms, crooning a strange, wild, wordless song that made Lucy think of wind whistling in the trees and birdsong and crickets and frogs and…
When Lucy awoke she was all alone and it was almost dusk. She made her way back home without incident; her fears somehow vanquished. The next day her father told her that Mr. Brown had met with an accident in the forest – he had fallen to his death on the rocks at the bottom of the gorge. Lucy never told a soul about what had really happened that day in the forest until she met Evie, almost sixty years later. But she cherished the secret knowledge of her loving, green friend in her heart and it warmed and comforted her whenever she felt lonely, fearful or sad.
When Lucy was sixteen, she fell in love. His name was Jethro and he wasn’t at all like the other irritating, spotty, loud, teenaged boys at her school. He was a loner, just as she was. However, in Jethro’s case, his individuality didn’t mark him out for mockery or even for being overlooked and ignored; it simply made him cooler. Jethro was tall and slender with dark, curly hair and slate-grey eyes and Lucy’s heart lurched and fluttered every time she looked at him. When he happened to walk past her, she would furiously blush, her hands would go all clammy and her mouth would dry out. All the girls in the school vied for Jethro’s attention and the boys attempted, with varying degrees of success, to emulate his air of quiet superiority. It was patently obvious to Lucy that Jethro was different and very special and Lucy knew, deep down in her soul, that he was The One for her. But Lucy also knew that she had absolutely no chance of attracting Jethro’s attention, as she wasn’t, or so she thought, pretty and vivacious. She also knew nothing whatsoever about fashion and make-up and flirting and all the other things that seemed to work for normal girls. She was small and under-developed and quiet and mousy and not at all the kind of girl who would attract the attention of someone as perfect as Jethro.
One afternoon Lucy was packing up her books after her final class of the day. She always took her time over this task as she preferred to leave the classroom last so that it wasn’t as obvious that she had no friends and would be walking home alone. As she buckled up her satchel, a shadow fell over her desk and she looked up; right into the gorgeous grey eyes of her dream boy. “Hi Lucy,” he said in his quiet, deep voice. “Can I walk you home today?” Lucy’s heart just about stopped and the blood began singing in her ears. This just couldn’t be true – it must be some kind of mistake!
Then, realizing that Jethro was waiting for a response from her, she stammered, in a weak, breathless, little voice, “Um, are you, um… sure?” And then she felt a hot tide of embarrassment flooding her face and chest and igniting her ears like glowing embers. “Um, I mean, um, ok… if you want,” she quickly clarified, in case he changed his mind.
“Let’s go,” said Jethro, a man of few words, as he grabbed her satchel and led the way out of the classroom.
For the first few hundred metres, neither of them said a word and Lucy wished that the ground would open up and swallow her because she was convinced that Jethro was already regretting his decision. Also, she had absolutely no idea of how to talk to him and was equally convinced that, even if she could find some miraculous way to open her mouth and find her voice, she anyway had nothing interesting to say. She felt herself getting smaller and smaller until, just before she turned into a little grey mouse and scurried away to hide under a bush, Jethro cleared his throat and said, “So, how do you like living next to the forest? You must know of some pretty neat places to escape from the world?”
Lucy, who was finally able to lift her eyes from the ground, gave Jethro a look of pure, unadulterated gratitude and adoration and suddenly found her voice, “Oh, it’s really cool. I have all kinds of special hidey holes and secret places that nobody else knows of.” Then she spent the next few hundred paces mentally kicking herself. Crikey… hidey holes!! He would think that she was just a stupid little kid!
But Jethro smiled and said, “I’d like to see some of those places. Why don’t we go for a walk?” And then he took hold of her hand and there she was, Lucy-the-grey-mouse, walking hand-in-hand with the coolest kid in the whole school! A tide of pure joy washed over her and it was all she could do not to skip and run down the road like a kid.
When they got to Lucy’s house, they dumped their school bags on the porch and then, after a quick glass of juice each, Lucy took Jethro’s hand and led him down her special path into the forest. She was feeling very excited and skittish and so, once they were under the canopy, she started running; weaving between the trees, giggling and glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Jethro was following. For the first time ever she felt like a normal girl; silly and playful and flirtatious and she was having the time of her life. Lucy was much smaller and faster than Jethro and so, after a while, she slowed down a bit to allow him to catch up with her. Jethro grabbed her from behind and she squealed with excitement as he lifted her up in the air and spun her around, tickling her as he set her down. Lucy giggled and squirmed and playfully pushed Jethro away and then leaned back against a tree trunk, relishing beneath her fingertips the velvety softness of the moss covering its bark. Never had she felt so alive, so vital and so happy. She was In Love and everything was absolutely perfect. And then her cup of joy completely overflowed when Jethro leaned in and kissed her gently on her cheek. She reached up a trembling hand and tentatively touched the side of his cheek and then let her fingertips explore his eyebrows, his forehead and then, daringly, outline his beautiful lips. Jethro put his hands on Lucy’s shoulders and pulled her up against him and then he started kissing her lips, hard and searchingly and Lucy found herself responding. This was what she had always dreamed of! This was her wildest fantasies, all come true at once!
But then Lucy felt Jethro’s hands begin to roam all over her body and suddenly she felt out of breath and out of control. Everything was just moving too fast for her and she had no idea of how to make it stop. Or even whether she wanted it to stop. Lucy could feel the entire length of Jethro’s body pressing her against the tree and his tongue was in her mouth and then she felt his fingers beginning to explore her breast and she started to panic. She tried to move her head away and pull his hands away from her body, but Jethro was far too occupied to even notice her feeble attempts.
Just as Lucy was gearing up to push Jethro away and destroy forever her chances with him, she opened her eyes and noticed that the Lady was standing right behind Jethro. Lucy gasped and Jethro must have felt something change, as he lifted his head and said in a husky voice, “What… what’s going on?” Noticing that Lucy was looking behind him, he asked, “What are you looking at?” and turned around, to find himself staring right into the emerald-green eyes of the Lady. Lucy never did find out what it was that Jethro thought he saw that day, but he yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice breaking somewhat at the end; staggered back and then took off like a bat out of hell, his air of cool superiority discarded as he ran for his life through the trees, never once stopping to look behind him again.
“What… What did you do that for? You’ve scared him!” Lucy yelled at the Lady. “Jethro, it’s OK, come back!” she called, but Jethro was long gone. “How could you! You’ve spoiled everything. He’s never going to want to be with me, ever again! I hate you! You’ve ruined my life! Just leave me alone!” Lucy screamed at the Lady with increasing volume, but the Deva simply smiled, turned around and glided away into the trees. “Dammit!” Lucy cursed, grabbing a stick and beating away at the undergrowth in frustration. After she had exhausted herself, she turned around and stomped back home, kicking at stones in the path as she went. But, in some secret part of herself, Lucy was just a little bit relieved that the Lady had saved her the embarrassment of telling Jethro to stop. She knew that she hadn’t been ready for what he had had in mind. In an even deeper secret part of herself she felt really disappointed that her idol had behaved just like a scared little girl, running away without even checking to see if she, Lucy, was ok.
That Jethro wasn’t the right guy for her after all was made abundantly clear when she overheard him bragging to another boy at school the next day that he had won the bet they had made about whether he could get “mousy little Lucy” past first base. Lucy felt utterly humiliated and she responded by withdrawing even further into herself and into her solitary nature studies in the forest. Boys were simply a stupid waste of time anyway, she told herself. By and by she forgave the Lady because she realized that she had actually been saved from making an even bigger fool of herself by her green friend. But, although she often spoke aloud to the Lady as she worked in the forest, she was not to see her again for a very, very long time.
Lucy’s years of self-study in the forest stood her in good stead when she was offered a full scholarship to study Botany at university when she finished school. On the day that Lucy left for university, she walked into the forest to visit all of her favourite places for the last time. She had hoped that the Lady might appear to say goodbye, but, despite calling her, no-one appeared, and it was with a very heavy heart that Lucy bid her beloved forest goodbye. She was not to return for several years.
After graduating, Lucy made a name for herself, firstly as a passionate, gifted researcher and lecturer, and then later as a professor of Botany. She published several self-illustrated books and scientific papers on the unique floral kingdom in which she had spent her formative years. She travelled all over the world and presented talks about her research and she lectured on Botany to successive years of university students. In time, she married a colleague who shared her interests and they bought a beautiful home in the city, close to the university where they both worked. Lucy’s life was happy and fulfilled and, for the first time, the aching loneliness that had always been her constant companion, abated somewhat and she started to come out of her shell and to make friends. For the next few years, Lucy hardly ever went back home to her father’s cottage, as there was always so much to do. Even when her father passed away and she inherited the cottage, Lucy was still unable to ever find more than a few days a year to spend in her childhood home.
In her late thirties, Lucy and her husband decided that it was time to start a family and, eventually, after several months of trying, Lucy finally fell pregnant. She was elated. This was the cherry on top of the cake! She walked around with a permanent grin on her face and found herself humming as she went about her daily work. She scaled back her teaching and travelling and joyfully prepared for the new addition to her family.
Very early on a cold, grey winter’s morning in her third month of pregnancy, Lucy awoke with a start, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. An icy sense of dread gripped her throat and she knew that something was very, very wrong. An hour or two later, in a chaos of tears, sweat, blood and excruciating pain, Lucy’s baby slipped away from her without ever having had a chance to live.
When Lucy’s doctor told her that the chances of her ever falling pregnant again were very slim and that the baby would never have been carried to term anyway, it felt as though a heavy, iron portcullis came clanging down around her heart. Lucy spent the next three months in a dreary miasma of despair, interspersed with guilt; only briefly emerging to rage against the world, before sinking even deeper into apathy and isolation. Her husband was loving and supportive, but as the months stretched on and Lucy sank ever deeper and deeper into depression and self-loathing, his patience eventually wore thin. Despite counselling, anti-depressants, holidays, changes of diet, vitamins and every other possible remedy, Lucy simply couldn’t pull herself back into the world of the living again. After a year, her husband gave Lucy an ultimatum, “Pull yourself together or I’m leaving,” he told her. Lucy did try, very hard, to improve. But, in the end, it merely felt as if she were trying to paste a tiny band-aid onto a gaping, mortal wound in her soul and she hurtled right back down into the deepest pits of despair. After another three months, her husband left her and six months later they were officially divorced. In a way, it was a relief for Lucy to no longer have to pretend to be recovering. She took a leave of absence from work and went to stay in the little cottage at the edge of the forest.
For two weeks Lucy remained in bed, sleeping all day with the covers pulled over her head; lying awake all night, wresting with her inner demons. She hardly ate and found that showering or changing her clothing was simply too much effort, so she didn’t bother. At the end of the second week, Lucy’s Aunt Edith arrived and, without ceremony, marched into Lucy’s room, pulled off her bedclothes and dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. Gasping and spluttering with shock, Lucy jumped out of bed and glared at her Aunt. “Good, you’re up. Now, give me those smelly pyjamas and go get into the shower,” she commanded. Lucy was so angry that she couldn’t even find her voice to retaliate and so she did as she was told. An hour later, after a shower, a change of clothing and a breakfast of cooked oats and fruit, Edith banished Lucy from the house and told her to go for a walk. It was just too much effort to resist Edith’s dictates and so Lucy found her feet carrying her down the familiar path through the garden gate and into the forest.
Without even noticing where she was going, within half an hour Lucy found herself standing in front of the giant Yellowwood tree she remembered so well from her childhood – the tree amongst whose roots she had so often sheltered from the scary outside world. Lucy noticed that the light was different from what she had remembered and then she realized that there was a large gap in the leaf canopy overhead, which had previously been filled by the spreading branches of a gnarled old Ironwood tree. The dead and rotting tree trunk was lying on the ground, covered in moss and fungi. As Lucy gazed at the space that the tree had previously occupied, she felt again the gnawing, aching emptiness in her womb and once again the dreary, familiar tears started to course down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and wished that she could simply leave her life; wished that she didn’t have to go on, for she felt that there was nothing worth living for anymore.
Then Lucy sensed a stillness and felt a warm glow on her face and arms. She opened her eyes to find the Lady standing before her. It had been a very long time since Lucy had last seen the Lady, but she still looked exactly the same; still beautiful, still young. The Lady looked at Lucy with infinite kindness and love in her eyes. She stretched out her hand and placed it on Lucy’s belly and a gentle, warm, healing glow began to pulse through Lucy’s body. Then the Lady slowly lifted her hand away and Lucy gasped as she felt the emptiness, the ache within, being pulled from her, and being replaced by a feeling of warmth and completion. The Lady turned her hand upwards and lifted it until it was level with Lucy’s eyes and Lucy could see that there was a tiny seed in the palm of her companion’s hand. The Lady took the seed between her fingers and, bending down; she buried it in the forest floor, beneath the opening in the canopy left by the fallen Ironwood tree. Then she stood up again and touched the palm of her hand to Lucy’s heart and suddenly the iron portcullis that had been protecting Lucy’s broken heart burst open and, with it, the emotional floodgates opened. Lucy fell to her hands and knees. She dropped her head and began to howl; deep, primal, gut-wrenching, animal sobs that wracked her entire body. And she cried for her lost baby and for all the babies she would never have; she cried for her broken marriage and for her career; she cried for her lonely childhood and she cried most of all for the loss of her mother when she was only a little girl. And her tears soaked into the ground where the little seed had been planted by the Lady.
When Lucy was finally emptied of every last tear, she realized that she felt a lot lighter; something had changed… she had changed. She sat back on her haunches and looked up, with red, swollen eyes, into the endlessly kind and compassionate emerald-green eyes of the Lady. And, for the first time in eighteen months, she smiled; a quivering, watery little smile, to be sure, but a smile, nonetheless. The Lady smiled back at Lucy and then pointed to the ground in front of her. Lucy looked down and, to her amazement, she saw that a tiny little seedling had started to sprout from the seed that the Lady had planted and which Lucy had watered with her grief. As Lucy watched in wonderment, the seedling rapidly grew before her very eyes, twisting and turning as it sprouted branches and tender, pale green leaves, which quickly darkened and proliferated. Within minutes the tree was as tall as Lucy was. She scrambled to her feet and watched the tree grow until it was at least five metres tall, at which point beautiful, white flowers began to bloom until the tree resembled a bride in all her lacy finery. Lucy gasped at the beauty before her. Although she was an expert in the plants of this region, she had never before encountered a tree such as this. Then the flowers began to turn brown and fall off the tree and then seedpods started to appear and lengthen where the flowers had previously been. Within minutes the tree was covered in long, narrow, green pods, which started to brown and then… with a series of barely audible little clicks, the dried seedpods began to open.
To Lucy’s utter amazement, out of each seedpod emerged flutters of tiny white butterflies, which alit upon her outstretched arms and hands, her head, her nose, her ears, her shoulders, until she was absolutely covered in tiny, tickling insects. Lucy laughed in delight at the sheer wonder of it all and then the butterflies left her, like a great, soft, white, living cloak, which flapped a few times around the tree before departing into the forest like a puffy white, living cloud.
Lucy watched the butterflies go with a sense of joy and gratitude and, as she looked back at her companion, she heard the Lady speaking within her heart, “Human beings are capable of magnificent acts of creation and nurturing. One of the most beautiful and mystical of these is the bearing and the raising of a child. However, for you, it was not meant to be that you should expend your creativity and energies in the raising of a child, but rather in the finding and giving of your own unique gift to the world.” As Lucy’s eyes misted over with tears, she felt the truth of what the Lady had said resonating within her deepest being. She sat down beneath the magical tree and spent the rest of the afternoon just being still in the silence of the place. When she got back to the cottage that evening, she fell into bed without even removing her clothing and she slept a deep, dreamless, healing sleep for the first time in over a year.
The next morning Lucy awoke just after dawn, refreshed and feeling hopeful and energetic in a way that was completely foreign to her. She climbed out of bed, wrapped an old woollen shawl around herself and pulled on her hiking boots without socks. Then she grabbed her long-abandoned easel out of the hall closet, set it up in a shady spot in the garden and began to paint.
Lucy never returned to the university. She stayed on in her father’s cottage, barely even noticing the passage of time as she was swept along on a wave of abundant creativity. She drew and painted and wrote, first poems, then illustrated short stories for children, then novellas for adults and finally, novels, all set in the enchanting, forested world with which she was so familiar. Her great outpouring of creativity began to provide a comfortable living for her and she was able to continue staying in the cottage at the edge of the forest, supporting herself with her creative outputs. She became rather eccentric in her heedless pursuit of her muse and local folklore soon abounded with tales of the strange lady who would roam the forest in her nightgown and hiking boots, drawing and writing and talking to herself, as she developed plotlines and stories in her mind.
And so the years passed. Lucy no longer felt lonely or alone, even though she very rarely spent time with any human company outside of the characters in her stories. The only exception to this was her little neighbour, Evie, with whom Lucy felt some special connection and with whom she shared her precious memories of her encounters with the Lady. Lucy was self-contained and fulfilled and content and that was enough for her.
One morning Lucy awoke just as the first rosy fingers of dawn were gently caressing the hilltops on the horizon. It felt like an important day, but she couldn’t for the life of her think why that should be so. She had, just the previous evening, finally finished a commission of five paintings for a client, with which she was extremely pleased. Finally, her knowledge of Botany, her artistic skills and technique and her love of story had come together in the production of five beautiful, magical pieces of art, which were the finest she had ever produced. For the first time in over twenty years, she had no unfinished creative work to attend to. She stretched out her aching back and then massaged her stiff fingers as she relished the unaccustomed freedom of the day ahead with nothing that she had to do and nowhere that she had to be.
Suddenly she heard a beautiful, crystal-clear chirping sound and, glancing out of her window, she glimpsed an iridescent little blue bird on her windowsill. The little bird puffed out its chest, shook its feathers and then flew away with a jubilant, high-pitched, musical chirping, leaving Lucy feeling inexplicably elated.
After breakfast Lucy still had no idea of what she would do and could still not recall why that day of all days should feel so significant, so she decided to go for a walk in the forest to clear her mind. Within minutes her feet were treading the familiar path that she had taken a thousand times before: through the garden gate, down the bramble-covered path and into the forest. Lucy walked a lot slower nowadays and she needed a stick to maintain her balance on the uneven path, so it took her almost an hour to reach her special place beneath the massive old Yellowwood tree. When she got there, she was feeling very out of breath, so she leaned up against the tree, her hands tightly clasped to her chest, gasping for breath. But, despite resting there for a good while, Lucy’s heart kept racing and suddenly she began to feel very dizzy and waves of nausea began rolling across her chest. She swallowed hard and bent down over her knees, clutching the tree for balance. Then Lucy became aware of shooting pains in her back and neck and her jaw felt strangely tight. She started to panic as she realized that nobody on Earth knew where she was and that there was no way she could walk back to her cottage in order to phone for assistance.
Lucy was just beginning to feel faint with pain and fear when she glanced up and noticed a familiar pale green glow moving towards her. It was the Lady and Lucy had never felt so relieved to see anyone in her entire life. The Lady calmly glided up to Lucy and, with a gentle, compassionate smile, placed both her hands on Lucy’s chest. Instantly the dizziness and nausea lifted and the pain receded, allowing Lucy to stand up straight and look her dear old friend in the eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, noticing that the Lady still looked as young and beautiful as she had the very first time that Lucy had met her, at age four.
The Lady, continuing to gaze into Lucy’s eyes, brought forth, with infinite tenderness, an egg from Lucy’s heart. As Lucy looked in wonderment at the egg in her friend’s hand, it began to crack open and a tiny little blue bird emerged, shaking and fluffing its feathers. With a great sense of joy, Lucy recognized the little bird she had seen on her windowsill earlier that morning. The bird lifted its beak and the most exquisitely pure notes emerged from its throat. Lucy watched, enthralled, until the song finished, and then the little bird fluffed out its feathers once more, looked her in the eye, blinked once or twice and flew off into the forest.
The Lady took Lucy’s hands in both of hers and spoke, deep into her heart, words of wisdom and compassion, “Your heartsong is over now, my friend,” and Lucy knew that it was true and a sense of deep peace, quiet joy, relief and serenity washed over her. And then the Lady and Lucy walked hand-in-hand, following the little blue bird into the forest.
***
Author’s note: I wrote Lucy’s story as a birthday gift for my dear friend, Ashleigh, who has given me permission to reprint the story in this book. This was the story that provided the inspiration and the starting point for my book, The Green Lady.