Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

Accompanied by a cacophony of Portuguese and Spanish swear words, I slowly made my way up the tree. Now and again, an orangutan would watch me quizzically from a neighbouring tree, probably wondering what this hairless rat on two legs was doing up here. I was wondering the same thing myself.

‘Are you there yet?’ a familiar cool voice rose up to me from far below.

Halting for a moment, I looked up at the eighty feet or so of slippery tree above me. ‘Not quite.’

‘Well, get a move on! We don’t have all day!’

Clenching my teeth, I bit back the selection of favourites from my collection of international curse words that I would have liked to hurl at him. ‘Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!’

‘And don’t fall off! A fall from this height would kill you, and I don’t want to waste any time on a burial!’

‘Very understandable, Sir. I will do my best to spare you the inconvenience…’

…you self-centred son of a bachelor!

I grabbed the next branch.

Do you want to know what was most annoying about all this? You might think that it was the fact that my chemise was torn in more places than I could count, or that I had leaves and twigs tangled everywhere in my hair, or even, oh, I don’t know, the fact that I was hovering in a tree fifty yards above the ground, ready to fall to my death at any moment.

But no.

The most annoying thing about all of this was that, while I was climbing this thrice-blasted tree and he egged me on from below with his maddening little comments, all I really wanted to do was get down there and shut him up. With my lips.

Yes. That’s how far I was gone. That bloody bastard was the one who had sent me up here in the first place, and all I wanted to do when I got down again was throw myself into his arms and kiss him senseless. Now, I ask you, is that a sensible feminist approach to things?

A monkey on the tree next to me offered his opinion on the matter, by turning its back on me and waggling its impressive red bottom in my face.

Even the monkeys thought I was pathetic. Fantastic!

After one hundred and twenty-one more branches, and three hundred seventy-two more are-you-there-yets, I was finally as high as I dared to go. The branch I was sitting on already creaked suspiciously under my generous derrière, and I had a suspicion that the branches farther up would be even less likely to approve of my favourite diet of solid chocolate.

From far below me, out of the nether regions where the devils of hell lived, came a cool voice: ‘Are you there yet?’

I counted to ten, then decided even counting to a million wouldn’t help to cool my temper down, and simply answered: ‘Yes.’

‘Adequate. Though you took your time about it! What do you see?’

For the first time since reaching the upper regions of the tree I looked around - and words failed me.

A steaming sea of green velvet stretched in front of me in all directions. We had chosen a tree for my little climbing exercise that was higher than all the others around it, and so I ha

d an excellent view of what people called ‘the jungle’. The word didn’t do it justice. Something more was needed. Something chaotic and beautiful and infinitely large and breathtaking. A colourful bird rose above a tree in the distance, calling out over the jungle with a mournful cry that tugged at my heart. Far, far away in the distance I could see a sparkling band of water glittering between the majestic trees and-

‘Mr Linton!’

-and I had better cut this description short if I wanted to keep my job.

‘Yes, Sir! I’m working on it, Sir!’

Ordering my eyes to stop staring in wonder and get back to work, I started searching the distant horizon for a mountain. It didn’t take me long. The peak rose high and solitary into the air, covered with luscious trees about halfway up its slopes, then slowly turning sparser until, at the very top, it revealed a jagged, bare stretch of rock. Pulling the compass Mr Ambrose had reluctantly entrusted to me out of its pouch, I let it snap open and levelled it at the distant crest.

‘Mr Linton? What are you doing up there!’

‘My work! Be quiet! That shouldn’t be too difficult for you, now, should it?’

I watched as the compass needle teetered and finally came to a halt. I took a good, long look at the face of the instrument to make sure everything was in order, then nodded to myself.

‘All right!’ I called down. ‘The mountain is to the west! Do you hear? We have to head westwards!’