Diana
They were just ordinary days, and yet they didn’t feel quite ordinary. Something was out of place. A dark thing had begun to grow and spread, though they tried to blow it away with brittle breeziness.
It wasn’t fear. No, no. That would be ridiculous. Cassy was nobody’s fool, and she was in one of the most stable countries in the world.
Not fear. Diana liked to think of herself as a chilled-out mother, not a neurotic worry-wart. So they couldn’t get hold of Cassy … Well, so what? If some tragedy had happened, they’d have heard by now.
Not fear.
It was four-thirty in the morning when she found Mike in his cramped workspace under the stairs. He was hunched in front of the desktop, looking vulnerable and tousled in his tartan dressing-gown and slippers. Light from the screen painted blue rivers on his face.
‘I’ve found them.’ Relief in his voice. ‘They do exist.’
She stood with her hands on his shoulders. His hair was definitely thinning on top. Greying a bit too. But fifty was barely middle-aged nowadays, and Mike was in better shape than most men half his age. Only that morning he’d cycled twenty miles. She wasn’t entirely sure why he bothered.
‘This their website?’ she asked, peering at the colourful images on the screen.
‘Mm-hm. They look pretty harmless.’
They did indeed. It was a slick website. The main photograph was taken from the end of a jetty, looking inland. It showed buildings scattered against a backdrop of wooded hills, with a gang of adorable lambs in the foreground. The main heading read Gethsemane, and beneath, in a smaller font: Whether you stay for a day or for a lifetime, the doors of Gethsemane are open to you.
There were thumbnail pictures of happy-looking people holding up vegetables; there were goats, beehives, and a wooden cabin with a group of very beautiful youngsters on its front porch. Links were arranged along the top: About Us; The History of Tarawera; Our Courses; Wwoofing; Contact; Testimonials; Gallery; Book Now.
‘What are the courses?’ asked Diana.
‘Permaculture, whatever that is. There’s one for recovering addicts.’
‘Sounds very laudable.’
‘There’s all sorts of hyperbole about the beauty of the scenery, the expertise of the tutors, the … you know, the purity of the environment. It reads like a tourist brochure. Have a look at About Us.’
A picture of a lake swathed in mist appeared, with text superimposed over the top.
The Gethsemane community was established in Wellington in 1985. It moved to its present home on the shores of Lake Tarawera in 1990, after the land was generously gifted by the Svenson family. Gethsemane has stewardship of over five hundred hectares of New Zealand’s native bush, interspersed with permaculture gardens, forestry plantation and pastureland.
The landscape of New Zealand, like so much of our planet, has been ravaged over the past century: intensive agricultural methods, urbanisation, imported pests and the thirst for fossil fuels have led to wholesale destruction. The human race has travelled far from its spiritual roots. Here we live sustainably and work with the environment, not against it. We nurture our soil. Our buildings and systems are designed to have minimal impact. We are carbon neutral. Our way of life is built upon love in its most simple and yet profound sense, remembering always that we are stewards—not landlords—of the earth.
Gethsemane offers refuge to everybody, without question. Nobody has ever been turned away. Many of our number have lived successful lives as professional people, but were drawn to Gethsemane because they felt something vital was missing. Others come for healing, or to learn more about themselves while treading lightly on our fragile earth. If you are recovering from trauma, from addictions or from the stresses of life, there is a home for you here.
Visitors are always welcome. There is no obligation to take part in the spiritual life of the community. Those wishing a deep experience of the peace of Gethsemane can join in one of our courses, or simply rest among us for as long as is needed. The doors of Gethsemane are open to you.
We welcome you.
‘Sounds ghastly,’ said Diana. ‘I’m surprised Cassy can stand all that holier-than-thou smugness.’
‘She’s pretty tolerant.’
Diana pointed at the screen. ‘What’s their “spiritual life”? Are they some kind of Christian outfit? Buddhists? New Age?’
‘They don’t say anywhere on this bloody website. My money’s on New Age. But look—Contact Us.’
Mike clicked on the link. No phone number, and just a post office box, but there was an email address: watchmenofgethsemane@gmail.com.
‘Might come in handy,’ said Diana.
Mike stretched, blinking at the kitchen window. ‘Good Lord, it’s getting light. I thought children were supposed to stop keeping their parents awake all night?’
‘I don’t think that ever happens.’
‘Coming back to bed?’
‘In a minute. I might just send Cassy another email.’
From: Mike and Diana Howells
To: CassyHowlerMonkey@gmail.com
Subject: How are you?
Hi Cassy,
Hamish told us you’ve split up. Never mind! Just checking you’re okay. Drop us a line, would you? We’re not worried. Just wanted to make sure you’re still alive, not kidnapped and sold into the white slave trade!!! Haha 
Mum xxx
PS Tara says hi. So does Pesky.