chapter twenty

During the next two days Andrew lay in bed, recovering. Members of the commune came in to bring him food or just to chat, they were, as Fred had said, all very friendly and kind. Even the one who had brought Andrew in from the wilderness had begun to use the word 'friend' with its conventional definition. They all treated Andrew as a long lost brother, and before long he felt very much at home. Andrew was only slightly surprised to discover that one of the men was in fact Brian, or Graham, now going under the name of Lewis, and seemingly unaware of his previous incarnations. No one ever questioned Andrew about his plans for the future; it was accepted that he was now part of the commune.

On the third morning Andrew got up and joined the others for breakfast, his hand was now fully recovered and his ankle, which he had tried in vain to convince everyone was broken, was no‑longer swollen or painful. The weals on his back and arms were healing well.

That day Lewis, whom Andrew invariably called either Graham or Brian, took Andrew on a tour of the area. The house was built near the brow of a hill and had an impressive view over the plain that Andrew had seen when he first arrived. They started at the back of the house, where there was a small orchard of about twenty trees.

"This is the orchard, we've got some apples, oranges, lemons and that one at the end is a walnut tree - but it hasn't started to bear fruit yet," said Lewis.

"Very nice," said Andrew not quite sure what else to say.

"We've had most of these trees for five, no six years now - so they're just reaching maturity. The walnut is a year younger."

"Hmmm, very interesting," said Andrew trying to sound convincing.

As they walked amongst the trees, Lewis stopped at each one and inspected the fruit hanging from it. "A lot of fruit‑fly this year," he concluded as they reached the end of the orchard.

"Isn't the insecticide working?" asked Andrew hoping to give the impression that these weren't the first orange trees he had ever seen.

"Insecticide?"

"Well, whatever you call it, you know; poisons you spray on to kill the bugs," said Andrew disappointed that he had obviously chosen the wrong word.

"Poisons?" said Lewis with some alarm.

"Yes," said Andrew growing impatient with Lewis's refusal to understand. "Where I come from we spray the fruit with these chemical poisons which kill the bugs, or at least keep them off."

"But who wants to eat fruit covered with poison?"

"You don't have to; it washes off in water."

"But why doesn't the rain wash it off?"

"It does, but then you just spray them again," said Andrew growing exasperated.

"But if it washes off then it pollutes the soil and the tree dies, or the tree takes up the chemical and then you can't eat the fruit," argued Lewis.

"No, no, it doesn't work that way," said Andrew wishing he'd never mentioned it.

"Well, how does it work?"

"The chemicals get broken down, by microbes, into fertilizers," lied Andrew.

"But-"

"These microbes," interjected Andrew as soon as he saw the flaw in his story, "only live in the soil, they can't survive on fruit skins."

"Oh well, that sounds okay, where do you find these chemicals?"

"You don't find them; you make them in factor-" Andrew broke off, remembering his promise to Fred, "in fact, they are only found down south, I don't really know why I mentioned it. I guess I forgot where I was."

From the orchard they moved into a small field. Lewis pointed proudly to the long regimented lines of vegetables, he took great care to name all of the varieties, and provide Andrew with a few horticultural tips for each one. Andrew struggled to appear interested, even though he was bored out of his skull he managed to nod and smile his way from aubergine to zucchini.

They walked down the hill to the flood‑plain of the river. Andrew did his best to admire the swaying wheat, corn, and sugar‑cane that grew there.

Coming back up the hill, but taking a different route, they passed a fenced area containing goats, chickens and pigs. By this stage Andrew had given up trying to invent new statements of praise and found himself saying; "Very nice," for the seventeenth time. This phrase was especially untrue when he applied it to the animals. From an early age he had felt a profound mistrust of anything capable of independent thought, particularly if it was armed with horns, beaks or teeth.

"This is the women's garden," said Lewis as they stopped beside the house.

Small white rocks had been arranged to form a neat square; inside was a selection of flowers and herbs.

"That's one thing I've noticed about this place," began Andrew forgetting his promise not to find fault, "it's all very sexist, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Lewis.

"Well, the women do all the cooking and the washing; they've got their own garden with just flowers and herbs in. And the men do all the hunting and building, and grow the real food."

"That's what they want."

"That's what you think they should want," corrected Andrew.

"That's what they say they want," said Lewis firmly.

"They just say that because they know what your reaction will be if they demand equality."

"Look, Andrew, I really don't know what you're getting at, but if you want to do some cooking, or anything like that, just ask them - I'm sure they won't mind," said Lewis unable to follow Andrew's line of argument.

"Well, I may just have a little chat to them about this," said Andrew threateningly.

"Please do, perhaps they'll understand what you're going on about, because I haven't a clue."

As the weeks went by Andrew's disinterest in the farm vanished. He was planting seed himself, now, and would rush out eagerly, after breakfast, to inspect their growth. Lewis taught him how to use a rifle so that he could walk with more confidence around the beautiful country‑side. He worked so hard in the fields that he barely had enough energy to eat his dinner before falling asleep. He began to feel very healthy and fit. He noticed that his previously featureless limbs were developing attractive muscles. Various members of the commune, but usually Lewis, taught him about the animals and birds that lived in the area, and he began to catch himself just standing and staring at a lizard on a rock, or he would pause in his work to admire an eagle wheeling slowly overhead.

The more he began to enjoy the life, the more potential flaws he perceived in it. Where did the guns, clothes and seeds come from? Why was Lewis always lurking nearby? Why weren't there any children in the commune, since all of the people apart from himself were paired off? Where were the old people? All of these questions leapt, uninvited, into his mind. He did his best to ignore them but it was an impossible task, and he couldn't risk asking anyone about them.

One day, almost a month after his arrival, Andrew was being taught how to make cheese from the goats' milk. While Andrew held open the muslin bags, Kate filled them with curds, tied a knot in the top and hung them up to drip.

"Have you known Fred for a long time?" she asked.

"For almost as long as I can remember," said Andrew.

"Then, you must know him quite well."

"Well I wouldn't say that; you probably know him better than I; we've never shared any bedroom intimacies."

"Have you noticed that he's afraid to make any long‑term commitments? It's as if he thinks that any day he might suddenly drop dead or vanish in a puff of smoke. Does he have a history of illness in the family, or something like that?"

"No, no history at all."

"Hmm, must be my imagination then," said Kate frowning.

"What kind of commitment are we talking about?"

"I'm sure Fred won't mind me telling you this - since you're friends," she looked at Andrew, seeking confirmation.

"No that's right - we have no secrets," said Andrew wondering just how true that was.

"As you know the commune is now growing more food than we need, when we first started we all agreed not to have any children until we were sure we could support them. Now that we can, Fred is against having any of his own. Maybe he's scared of the responsibility. Some people don't regard bringing up children as a natural process; they think it's something you have to have an aptitude for. They worry that the slightest lapse in being the model parent will harm the child's personality forever."

"I don't think that's the case with Fred."

"Well that's a relief; no one should be frightened of such a wonderful experience."

"No Fred's problem is simple; he hates kids," said Andrew, he had no idea if it was true, but it seemed to be the easiest way to explain Fred's attitude.

"Oh!" said Kate, the notion was one she had evidently never even considered entertaining. "Does he indeed; we'll have to see about that."

That afternoon Andrew was working on his own, several miles from the commune. He was chopping down young trees, he was doing it with an easy conscience, Lewis had told him they would eventually smother each other to death because they were growing too close together. The timber would be used for a fence to separate the pigs from the goats. The goats had recently discovered that pigs, generally vicious creatures if tackled head‑on, were vulnerable to attack when approached from the rear. The goats had perfected a hit‑and‑run technique which involved running up behind a contentedly-feeding pig and, being careful to aim one horn at each buttock, use the acquired momentum to convert a docile bacon producer into half a ton of squealing destruction. The pig, having been so struck, would charge around the enclosure in a frenzy, running over hens and, sometimes, knocking down fences, but never able to catch its assailant. The commune had decided the only way to prevent their pork being prematurely tenderized was to give the farm‑yard guerrillas their own pig‑free environment.

Andrew selected the frailest of the saplings, it was not much thicker than his forearm, and was about twelve foot high. He began methodically swinging the axe, first at one angle and next at an opposing angle, to produce a 'V' shaped cut in the thin bark. Then, as it became clear that he was making no impression on the hard white wood below the bark, he increased the tempo and force of the blows - forsaking accuracy for sheer bloody‑mindedness. After ten minutes of frenetic activity he was drenched in sweat and in such a rage that he seriously considered using his teeth instead of the axe. He was convinced he had stumbled upon the organic equivalent of stainless steel. Then, as the axe reached the end of a particularly savage back‑swing, the handle slipped from between his sweaty fingers and whirled through the air. The blade flashed in the sunlight, before finally embedding itself in the trunk of a slightly larger tree, the tree toppled almost immediately - pushed over by the strong breeze which blew up from the plain.

"So," muttered Andrew to himself, "you have to catch them by surprise."

He tried walking nonchalantly past a tree, then abruptly turning and attacking the tree as if his axe was a Samurai sword. Apparently the trees had learnt from the mistake of their fallen brother - Andrew had no success.

He sank, exhausted, to the ground and sat with his back firmly supported by the tree he had been trying to chop down. His attention was caught by a flurry of activity near his foot; seven ants were attempting to drag a dead beetle over a large stone. Andrew was fascinated by the difference in scale of the objects concerned. The beetle, though far larger than the ants, was dwarfed, itself, by the stone. Andrew imagined that the scene could be translated into seven men trying to haul a double‑decker bus over the top of a twelve storey building. The irony was that the ants had no need to go over the rock at all, they could have quite easily gone around it. "Go round the side," he advised them, but they were determined to do it their own way. He watched with mounting frustration as the ants, making their fifth attempt on the summit, again allowed the beetle to slip from their grasp and fall back to the ground. Andrew picked up the beetle and placed it on the other side of the rock, the ants ran around in small mystified circles and finally headed off the way they had come. "You silly buggers; it's over there!" said Andrew pointing to the far side of the rock. Andrew retrieved the beetle and placed it in the path of the retreating ants, they swarmed around it, picked it up and carried it back to the rock. "Well, you can't say I didn't try," said Andrew standing up.

Andrew was late returning to the house that evening. He entered through the front door and found the other members of the commune engrossed in conversation around the dinner table.

"Aha, talk of the devil," said Fred as soon as he saw Andrew come in.

The others turned around with embarrassed smiles on their faces.

"Well, that settles the argument," said Lewis. "We were just debating whether to tell you the good news now, or keep it secret until the Summer Fair. But now it would be cruel to keep you in suspense."

"Oh I don't know," said Fred, shooting a look at Andrew which would have killed a more sensitive person. "A bit of suspense never hurt anyone."

"No, tell me now," said Andrew returning Fred's look with one that was supposed to convey innocent bewilderment.

"We've decided," began Kate eagerly, "that at the Summer Fair we-"

Andrew interrupted her with a raised hand. "Before you go any further, what's the Summer Fair?"

"Hasn't anyone told you?" she said looking disapprovingly at the others.

"This is the first I've heard of it," said Andrew as he sat down at the table, anxious to eat his dinner before it was completely cold.

"Around the middle of each season there is a fair where people from all the surrounding communes meet to barter their produce," explained Lewis, before Kate could resume. "The Summer Fair, always the biggest and the best, starts next Friday. The site is a three-day walk from here, so, unless the weather is exceptionally good, we don't usually attend the winter one. It's always tremendous fun and gives us a chance to stock up on all the things we don't make or grow ourselves."

Andrew nodded, to show that, despite the fact that he seemed to be totally preoccupied with his food, he was listening.

"We are now," said Kate butting in as Lewis paused for breath, "producing much more than we need so we've decided to use some of the excess to buy a mate for you."

Fred, who sat opposite Andrew at the table, wiped a piece of cabbage from his eye with disgust.

"Sorry," spluttered Andrew, still choking. He took a sip of cold tea, and turned with a look of amazement towards Kate. "Buy?"

"Well, they don't grow on trees you know," she said laughing.

"I know I'm not the most handsome guy around, but I really don't think I have to resort to prostitutes."

This caused more amusement amongst the people at the table, except for Fred who continued to glower at Andrew.

"Everyone has to buy their mate, a commune isn't just going to give up a healthy working member for nothing," said Lewis. "Some background investigation will tell you if a commune is over‑crowded or not, that usually helps with the bargaining - but you always have to pay something."

"So what would you like?" asked Kate.

"What would I like?"

"Yes, male or female?"

"Oh I see. Female, please."

"Are you sure?" asked Lewis placing his hand intimately on Andrew's shoulder. "There's no need to be shy, Fred has already told us that you're Gay - it's no problem for us. We only asked because we thought it would be better if you got it off your chest and told us yourself."

Andrew stood up, walked around the table, grabbed Fred by the lapel and dragged him off to the bedroom. He paused at the door, turned back to the table and said; "Excuse us for a moment." Closing the door behind him he turned angrily to Fred.

"What the hell do you mean by saying-" they both said in unison.

"That," continued Fred persistently, "I hate children."

"Oh is that why you're so irate?"

"Well of course, wouldn't you be?"

"No, I do hate the little brats."

"Well I don't, so why did you tell Kate that I did?"

"What was I supposed to tell her? She asked me why you weren't keen on having any. Did you want me to say; Naturally, he'd love to have some but he's afraid that, at any moment, he might turn back into a parrot? I figured that if I told her you hated them, she would keep off your back about it."

"Well it didn't work, she now thinks that I've got some kind of psychological hang‑up about children, and she's determined to cure me using what she calls; Common Sense Psychology," said Fred pacing the floor in irritation.

"What the hell is that?"

"I don't really know. It consists of her asking me lots of weird questions about my childhood. Since I didn't have one I have to keep making up the answers."

"Hmmm. Tricky," admitted Andrew. "It must be hard to maintain the continuity of the lies."

"Very. She's been hassling me the whole afternoon. I got so annoyed with you; when the opportunity came for revenge, I took it."

"By telling them I was Gay?"

"Yes, you see; originally they weren't going to tell you until after they'd bought your mate."

"So you thought it would be an even bigger surprise if my mate turned out to be a man. Spiteful, very spiteful," said Andrew shaking his head slowly from side to side. "This new body of yours has certainly made a mess of your kindly personality."

"Yes I've been trying to fight it, but it's hard to shake off the normal human characteristics."

"Very funny, shall we rejoin the others - now that we've kissed and made up?"

"Okay, but next time Kate asks you something about me, especially if it's about her having children, just say you don't know."

"Mum's the word."

They left the bedroom and rejoined the others at the table.

"Sorry about that," said Andrew, "a little misunderstanding. In answer to your question, Lewis, I would definitely prefer a woman."

"If you're sure," said Kate glancing at Fred for verification, Fred nodded and she continued, "then we'll do our best to pick a nice one for you, though you must remember we don't have a great deal to barter with."

"What do you mean you'll try to pick a nice one? Don't I have any say in the matter?" said Andrew astonished.

"Well of course not!" said Kate even more astonished. "How on earth could you pick someone just by looking at them. We know practically all the people who'll be at the fair, and we know what skills this commune needs. It's just a matter of going along and seeing who's available and whom we can afford."

"But, but what if she doesn't like the look of me?" said Andrew unable to believe that any kind of relationship could be set up in this way.

"She won't see you; the bartering is done in secret between non‑participating members of each commune."

"But what if we don't get on?"

There was a silence around the table as everyone stared at Andrew in disbelief, it was broken by Fred who stood up, walked around the table, grabbed Andrew by the lapel and hauled him away to the bedroom. "Excuse us," he shouted as he closed the bedroom door.

"Sorry, I should have told you about this sooner," apologized Fred.

"What?" asked Andrew still stunned by the reaction of the others.

"Consider this situation: what would you do if you knew you had to spend your whole life married to the same person, if there was no chance of ever leaving that person and no chance of ever having a relationship with anyone else?"

"Uh ... well, I don't know ... suicide?" guessed Andrew.

"No, Dill‑Brain, you'd make damn sure that the relationship worked. You'd go light‑years out of your way to make your partner happy, and she would do the same for you, otherwise the rest of your lives would be absolute hell."

"Really? Are you certain that would work?"

"Maybe not in the worlds that we came from, but you must have noticed that here; everyone is much kinder and much more sensitive to the needs of others."

"Yes, that's true - everyone but us."

"There is an alternative."

"What's that?"

"You could remain celibate for the rest of your life."

"Hmm, a novel use of the word: alternative," said Andrew. "Why don't I just leave it till next year?"

"This time next year we'll be deafened by the patter of tiny feet, this is probably the last time we'll be able to afford nappies, let alone the luxury of some sexual gratification for you."

"Couldn't you sell me to another commune?"

"You're too old, they want strapping young men who've got more energy than they know what to do with, and more muscles than you've had parking tickets."

"Oh well," sighed Andrew. "I suppose it saves all the hassle of finding one for myself."

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