A COCKPIT IN A PEPPER TREE

It all began one night under the giant pepper tree at the orphanage.

Lillian was ten years old. Bart was older, maybe twelve. Lillian was sobbing, little searing – hot sobs of sadness under the pepper tree. She was sorely missing her mum. Her mum had been, that day, to the orphanage on one of her “once-every-three-months” visits.

She had only stayed a couple of hours. She had bought Lillian some sweets. She had given her a “tickey” pocket money. It was all she could afford. She had promised she would visit Lillian again…not next Sunday, nor the next, nor the next, nor the n-e-x-t, but the next. It seemed so far, far away. It could well have been a million years from then.

Lillian did not want to lie in bed that night and try to smother her sobs beneath the blankets, and let all the other girls in the dormitory hear her, so she waited ‘till she knew the sister in charge was fast asleep and all the girls were lost in dreamland, before slipping out of bed, into her clothes, out of the “dorm”, down to the playing fields… to the pepper tree. She had never been to the pepper tree at night before. She felt a little twinge of fear in her stomach. She loved the pepper tree. It was her playground.

She found comfort and peace under its huge, gnarled branches. It was like a great big friend. She could be open, honest and simply herself with the pepper tree. She could laugh and scream, even weep to her heart’s content… without fear or ridicule. Without shame. Suddenly she heard a rustling in the branches.

(But there is no wind tonight?)

The snapping of a branch.

(What is it?)

She sat still, dead still, clutching her knees tightly to her chest, too scared to move, or look up, too frightened even to breathe.

Then there was a crash and a yelp, and first a split-second of a shadow, then a form thumped down heavily beside her. She shot to her feet. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged. She froze.

“Don’t scream, don’t scream… Sssshh… It’s okay… It’s only me… Bart Nel.”

It took her a short while to come to her senses. She gasped with relief.

Bart Nel! What was he doing in her pepper tree, and at this time of night.

“Bart Nel, what are you doing here?” She admonished angrily. “And in my pepper tree?”

“Your pepper tree?” he retorted with a half-sneer. He stood tall and formidable in front of her.

He swayed from side to side, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Yes, mine!” she answered cheekily. She had to look up to look into his face. By now her eyes had become accustomed to the dark and with the help of the faint light of the half-moon, she could make out his features

Although Lillian had been at the orphanage close on a year, she never really paid attention to Bart Nel. Besides, everyone knew that Tracy Grobbelaar fancied him and she was in charge of Lillian's “dorm”. She was also much bigger than Lillian, and older. And, what was more, she was a bully. Lillian was scared of Tracy Grobbelaar, just like all the other girls were, and would not have dared to even smile at Bart in case it got back to her. Bart was very handsome though, she noted.

“What are you doing here, this time of night and all?” he asked. “Waiting for somebody? I bet its Sidney Clack and he’s not coming,” he teased. “To think we all thought you were just a quiet little mouse,” he added.

“I’m… I’m not doing anything wrong,” Lillian sniffled. “I just wanted to be alone.”

He looked into her eyes and in a comforting voice: “Don’t cry,” he said, “Don’t cry.” And with his hand he wiped away some tears.

“Did you also see your mum today?” she enquired sheepishly.

He did not answer. He just frowned. Lillian thought it was quite a sad frown.

“What are you doing up in the tree, Bart, and how come you fell down?”

He dragged his bare foot over the sand, from left to right and back, in a half moon. He was clearly embarrassed. He sighed a deep-down sigh. He hesitated, then he said with a touch of anger, “Oh, you’ll never understand.”

“Understand what? Please tell me Bart, please tell me,” she begged, tugging at his shirtsleeves.

“I’ll let you into my secret, if only because you’re sad, and if you promise to tell no-one. You see, I like to climb right up to the top of the pepper tree. That way I can look out over the walls and see the lights of the city and far beyond. That way I can be free … I just travel… and travel and go anywhere I please. The pepper tree is my airplane. My cockpit’s r-i-g-h-t at the top.”

“Where do you travel to, Bart?” she asked unbelievingly.

“Oh, all over,” he replied casually.

“How can you go all over when you’re sitting in a tree?”

“You won’t understand,” he said, “besides, you won’t even believe me.”

“I will, I will, please tell me”.

“ I go with my mind,” he said, “I imagine, I think, I dream.”

“You’re a silly Billy, Bart. Just like Sandy Visser. She’s always day dreaming. She even thinks she’s a princess.”

“No,” said Bart. His voice turned dead serious. “It’s not just day-dreaming. Come. Come with me.”

He was like a cat, agile and sure footed, as he led the way up the tree, up to a nook in the upper branches that was smooth and shaped like a comfortable arm-chair.

He sat Lillian down beside him and took her hand in his.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Now imagine you’re in an airplane and you’re going to take off… where shall we go?” he added gently.

She thought to herself that Bart was too old to be playing such childish games as these. Besides, how would she know what it was like to be in an airplane? She half-opened her eyes and peeped at him. His eyes were shut tight. His face was transfixed in a smile. The most beautiful, the most serene smile she had ever seen in her life. The light of the half-moon seemed to cast a glow, like a halo, around his head.

She stopped her inner chuckling. Bart was not fooling around. He was serious. She closed her eyes again. “I’ll go along with this,” she thought to herself.

“Where would you like to go?” he repeated gently. She couldn’t think of anywhere in particular. She had never traveled anywhere at all, let alone in this manner. And in the cockpit of a pepper tree! “Bethlehem,” she whispered without even thinking. “Yes, Bethlehem,” she repeated. She had learnt all about Bethlehem from the nuns.

“I’ve been there before,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’ll take you. Sit tight. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t think of anything. Just listen to my voice and imagine everything I say is true. Think with your tummy… we’re going to take off shortly, high into the sky, above the walls, above the rooftops, above the chimneys, way above the clouds…”

He began to make low grunting noises, like an engine starting up. First in fits and starts, quietly, then louder and louder, faster and faster… up, up and away… Then he started talking in a soft, soothing voice that sounded so close, so loud in her ears; and yet, at the same time, so far, far away.

Words that were …star nouns…and sun verbs…in moonbeam phrases…describing this and that and a million landmarks along the way…a voice that built into many voices… like a choir of angels. And then, her mind became a huge white canvas…and he began to draw, lovingly painting in all the colours of the rainbow and colours she had never seen or dreamed possible.

There appeared vast stretches of desert and deep canyons, and men and women in flowing robes… and camels, and Roman soldiers with gleaming swords and studded shields. He pointed out three bright stars on the horizon and three kings on camels following the stars. He led her into a little village with houses built of mud, and he ushered her into a stable. There was a baby lying on a bed of straw, bathed in a most incredibly powerful light. There was a cow and a donkey, there were lambs and chickens… and there appeared next to the baby the most beautiful lady in the whole wide world. The lady lifted the baby from his bed of straw. She floated towards Lillian and held the baby out to her.

“Hold him,” she said.

Lillian reached out her arms.

Then there was nothing. Just an empty canvas. An empty silence. And a feeling of peace, of joy and tranquility she could not describe. She opened her eyes. She felt the warmth of Bart’s hands. His eyes were still closed. His face pointing to the moon, bathed in its light.

“Bart,” she whispered, “Bart.” She squeezed his hand. He opened his eyes and turned to her. They were millions of miles away. “Bart!” she cried. “It was beautiful, so beautiful in Bethlehem.”

He smiled knowingly.

The next day at tea break Lillian looked out for Bart. The boys and girls were kept in different sections of the school yard, separated by a boundary line made up of painted white stones. The boys and girls were not allowed to cross this line, not even allowed to talk to each other. She spotted Bart. He was playing football. She had to pass him her note. She simply had to. She shouted, “Bart!” Once then twice. He heard and saw her. He grabbed the football from the hands of a boy near him and kicked it in her direction, over the boundary line. She ran for the ball. She picked it up and passed it to him. Along with her note.

“Bart, please can I meet you at the pepper tree tonight? Please can we go somewhere far, far away?”

Bart came that night to the pepper tree. And the next night. And many nights after, whenever it was possible to meet. He took her all over the world, even to the moon…and beyond. They even played hopscotch with the stars… and he also took her deep into the galaxies of his own mind, and into the spinning worlds of his soul.

She grew to love Bart very much. Even more, much more, than her friend, the pepper tree. More than her mum. Bart became her best friend in the whole world.

Then one night Bart did not come to the pepper tree as planned. She could not understand why. She looked out for him all the next day. He was nowhere to be found. Nobody knew a thing. Although she saw that Tracy Grobbelaar’s eyes were red and Tracy Grobbelaar was keeping to herself and would not say a thing. Lillian could feel the panic welling up inside of her.

Lillian heard a few days later that Bart had been taken away. They had sent him to another school for bigger boys. They didn’t even let him say goodbye or anything.

Although she was hurt and sore inside, there was one thing she felt for sure: somehow she knew, in her heart of hearts, that there was nothing, no time nor distance, no force in heaven or on earth, that could keep them apart forever. Theirs was a divine connection.

The days, the months, and then the years flew past.

Lillian had butterflies in her stomach as her flight took off. She was going on her first ever trip abroad.

As she nestled her head back into the headrest, she felt an eerie feeling – she didn’t know how to describe it, it was not excitement, not even nausea – gnawing at the walls of her stomach. She closed her eyes.

She heard the faint drone of the aircraft, like a wind whistle.

She fell into a sort of trance. She felt a jolt and a lift and the creeping sensation of a bird in flight… she saw moons and stars, she felt herself tumbling, tumbling… she saw the earth from the skies… a vast desert… and camels…and a little town with mud houses, and a stable… and inside… a cow and a donkey, some sheep and chickens… and a little baby, swathed in the most incredibly powerful light, laying atop a bed of straw.

Then a voice penetrated her mind. Faint and far away at first.

“Lillian Martins?”

The voice drew nearer. Louder and louder it grew.

“Miss Lillian Martins. Miss Lillian Martins.”

Lillian opened her eyes. She was looking into the smiling face of an air hostess.

“Yes?” she asked sleepily.

“Captain Bart Nel has requested the pleasure of your company in the cockpit.”

Published by National Magazines 1994