DURING the week the boys went off to school on the bus. Sometimes in the mornings I would go and wait with them at the gate. Uncle Frank suggested that I might like to go in with them, see what country schools were like. I couldn’t see the point. Sure it was a bit boring when the others had all gone, but then it wasn’t like I was staying much longer, was it? Before long Dad would be on the blower and I would be back at my own school, picking up where I left off.

At the end of the first week something special happened. On Sunday night there was a meeting of the New Jerusalem League. It was made up of maybe ten other families. Most of the ‘Leaguers’ lived around the mountain and would drop in from time to time, but others came from as far away as Foxton, so we only got to see them at these gatherings.

When everyone had arrived there were maybe forty people altogether. I noticed that quite a few of the men had beards like Uncle Frank, and the women dressed in sort of hippie clothes like Aunty Lorna. Some of them seemed really poor though, like they were wearing clothes from the charity shop.

The adults had this sort of routine, they would go around everyone else when they arrived, making sure they shook everyone’s hands, even the babies’ hands. This must have been some sort of New Jerusalem tradition. I remembered being impressed by it when I first arrived on the bus. After this they would wander over to the big veranda which wound its way all around the outside of the Palace of Wisdom. Uncle Frank had built seats there and everyone would sit around talking and waiting for the others to arrive.

Eventually, there would be a sort of roll call and when they were sure that everyone was accounted for, the adults would go inside. At times during the afternoon I peeped in through the door to see what was going on. There was a circle of seats and they seemed to take turns standing up and talking to the others. As well as the talking there seemed to be plenty of laughing, and a fair bit of singing and reciting poetry.

Meanwhile us kids chased each other around the lawn, just being like kids anywhere I guess. Specially kids who haven’t got television.

Eventually we tired of this and went off to the barn to show the others our huts in the hay bales. Because there were many of us now we had to make a big one which could hold everyone. It was surprising how quick and easy it was when everyone was working together. We had really struggled building the little huts. After a while we had a new hut built and guess what? It was six-sided. I don’t know how or why that happened but I suspect it was Iain’s design. There were twelve of us and we all sat in a circle with our backs against the walls and our feet in towards the middle. We had to leave the top open because the room was too big to be spanned by a roof.

One of the kids was a girl about my age, called Lara. She suggested that we have a story telling contest. I figured it was because she had a big story she wanted to tell and I was right. Wouldn’t you know it, there was a magic kingdom called the Land of Doppi, where people walked round just below the surface of the earth like shadows, the soles of their feet touching our own. They did everything in a way that was the opposite of how we do things. She seemed to go on for ever about how the Doppis cried when they were happy and laughed when they were sad, and how their mothers did all the heavy work because they were so strong and how their fathers just seemed to bake cakes and look after the kids all day.

There was only so much of this I could take because it was all about details. Not enough happened. Too much about feelings and relationships, which as everyone knows, is girl territory. I started jiggling around and she got grumpy. I got the feeling that she had been told that this was a crash hot story and had been listened to for hours.

“If you’re so brilliant, you make one up,” she said.

So I did.

I made up this story about three superheroes who are a bit like Jamie, Iain and me. Their names are Justin Case, Tony Footsore, and the me-one who’s known as Bolt Upright, Secret Agent. We have to perform a number of difficult feats to save our tribe from Certain Doom, who is the ruler of the neighbouring kingdom. We each have special powers and we use them in brilliant ways. Justin Case can invent things out of ordinary objects, he’s like part inventor, part super-handyman; and Tony Footsore is able to use his voice to mellow people out: just the story when you are being chased by angry cannibals or giant bees. Bolt Upright seems to only have one talent and that is for getting into trouble, so it’s handy to have these other two around. I’m really getting into it when the gong goes for lunch and all the others make me promise to complete it later. The twins were hanging out for more about those giant bees. I could see Lara’s face in the gloom across the circle: it looked real pouty.

We all assembled in the Palace, as the boys called it, for a feed. I was really hungry by that stage and dying to bog in but there was a little waiting period before anyone could start. We sat on the circle of chairs with the others in our families. When I saw the kids and adults combined I realised there was quite a mob of us, especially for the country where more than four people is considered a crowd. Slowly our chatter died away and I noticed that even the kids all began to “serious up”. Finally Uncle Frank stands up and recites

It’s a good poem, my mum used to read it to me in bed sometimes from a book called Leaves of Gold.

When he got to the end a few of the adults muttered “Spoken,” which I guess is like “Amen, Brother!” After that, we all stood and Aunty Lorna began to sing a song. Now I could see where Jamie gets his singing voice from. Her voice filled that room like warm air. It began like this:

After this everyone else joined in. Surprisingly, I did to. Somehow it’s a song I know. We used to sing it in assemblies at school. There’s a freaky coincidence eh?

When we got to the part which goes “Till we have built, Jerusalem…” everybody in the hall really went for it. Really rattled the windows.

After that we all got stuck in to the food. This kind of food isn’t my favourite. Once again it was honey this, honey that. Bees are pretty important to this bunch. The cakes were heavy and tasted a bit like carrots. You had to swamp them in whipped cream to get them down. Uncle Frank broke out some stuff called mead. It comes from bees too but it’s strictly for the adults, which, to put it another way, means it’s some sort of wine. After a while everyone’s cheeks seemed a bit redder and some of the men sure got loud. I know what that’s about. Same old, same old.

It was getting to be night-time so we kids organised a game of hide-and-go-seek in the dark. When night falls in the country it is very dark at first, only lightening up when the stars come out.

When it was my turn to look for everyone I had to do it with my ears rather than my eyes. I fell over Ewan who was lying right in front of me, as quiet as a mouse. It’s a hard enough game in the day time but at night, in long grass, it’s almost impossible. You have to want to be found, otherwise you’re in for a long wait, lying there in the damp. The trick is to give the others a few signals in the form of squeaks or farting noises maybe. What it means is “I’m sick of this, how about finding me?” Before long we had found everyone except Lara.

I got the idea that she’d joined the Doppi and was now living underground doing everything the other way round. We searched everywhere but with no luck. There were no signs and no noises. She was nowhere to be found. It was like she had disappeared off the face of the planet. It was hopeless.

We were getting a bit worried. It wasn’t like a game any more. Not fun. Someone went off and told the adults. Soon I saw them all coming out of the Palace carrying torches. It was a full-on search. I noticed that there was a tense feeling amongst us, everyone knew that this had gone on too long. I heard someone say, “It’s not the first time she’s done something like this. She’s very stubborn…” I felt a bit guilty. I couldn’t help feeling that it was partly my fault. I shouldn’t have outdone her in the story telling. It wasn’t that important to me. Honest.

I have always hated searching for things. Now I discovered that this includes people. For a moment I remembered those searches I forced on poor Yoke-Lin when I hid her stuff. No wonder she left us.

After about twenty minutes I was really sick of looking but I felt I should keep on just for appearances. I wandered off to talk to Pimpernel. I was sure that at least he would have something useful to say on the matter.

It is hard to spot a black pig in the dark so I was pleased to find that he was standing by the fence waiting for me when I got near his paddock. I clambered over the squeaky wires and sat down beside him with my arm around his neck. I had to explain the whole situation from beginning to end. He’s a good listener, never interrupts. Finally I said, “I don’t know where she is, do you?”

You can see why I kept these human-to-pig conversations to myself eh? It’s not a good look.

Pimpernel went “Nnnnnnnnnnnngh” and then flicked his curly tail in a special way. I know what that means. It means “Follow me”. We wandered across the paddock to where Satan was chained up to his kennel. Pimpernel stood just outside the range of the chain staring. He’s pretty smart when it comes to Satan, he knows to keep his distance. Immediately I realised what he was telling me. Of all the possible places on the farm to hide, she had chosen the worst. Lara was hiding in Satan’s kennel.

I wandered around peering at the dark opening. It was impossible to see anything inside. I called out “Lara!” but there was no answer. I looked over at Satan, he seemed pretty uninterested and was pulling grass noisily out of the ground nearby. Failure was not an option.

I was going to have to go in.

I knew what that meant … being on my knees in front of the goat kennel with a sex-mad Satan right behind me.

Do I go in or is it best to get the adults?

Of course getting the adults would be the easy option, but that also meant giving away some of the glory. I wouldn’t do that. I wracked my brains for a cunning plan. I was determined to use my superior intelligence, to show Satan why he was just a black goat tied to a box in the paddock while I was able to wander around doing what I liked. It wasn’t a great plan but it was all I could come up with in the space of thirty seconds or so. I would rush forward and dive into the kennel before the goat guessed what was happening.

I turned away and wandered off a bit like I had lost interest. Pimpernel stood staring at me, knowing something was up, probably nervous on my behalf. Out of the corner of my eye I watched, waiting until the goat was occupied with a particularly tough tuft of grass, then I sprinted forward and dove into the dark hole. Next thing I knew was clonk! I had banged heads with Lara who had been watching me all the time from her little hidey hole.

“Gaaaar!” she screamed.

I was pretty stunned but I had just enough brain power to get my hind legs safely inside the goaty smelling chamber.

“You idiot … idiot … idiot. Why did you do that?”

I could feel a big lump coming up on my forehead. “I couldn’t see you … and I had to beat the goat.”

“You nearly knocked me out.”

“I nearly knocked me out too.”

My brain damage didn’t seem to matter to her. We were both crammed into this little kennel hardly able to move. It looked as if I would have to go out bum first, something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

We waited for a while crammed tight, wondering what to do. I managed to turn around so I was facing outwards. There was just enough room to squeeze my throbbing head along the tin roof of the kennel. My hair did a good job removing all the spider webs at the same time. Eventually we were both lying in the same direction and I could feel Lara’s breath on my face. I don’t think I had ever been so close to a girl before. It was strange and sort of exciting. Much as I wanted to get out of the smelly goat box there were good reasons for staying in there too.

Satan came over. He lowered his head sort of casually until it filled the entire doorway. His horns were gleaming in the moonlight and his jaws were chewing hard. The kennel was swamped in goat breath. This was serious. He was a truly evil goat and now he wanted to make it clear that he had us exactly where he wanted us. He was gloating. There’s nothing worse than a gloating goat.

“Well, Bolt Upright,” Lara said, “how are you going to get us out of this one?” She paused to let it sink in and then she said, “I know, you will tell the goat a few snappy one liners and we can make our escape while it’s laughing its horns off.”

Her voice was full of sarcasm. I knew that she was paying me back for not respecting her Doppi story.

“Maybe we can join the dopeys, go underground.” It was all I could manage.

She thrashed around at this and banged my nose with the top of her head. I jerked my head back suddenly and banged it against the roof of the kennel. This rescue wasn’t going well.

“Who’s in there?”

It was an unfamiliar voice. I was trying to track it when Lara yelled out, “We are. Lara and Bolt Upright.”

“Everyone’s looking for you,” said the voice. “Why don’t you come back?”

“The goat!” I yelled. “He won’t let us.”

“Oh,” was the response.

A little while later the goat’s head disappeared and there was a grunting sound.

“Come on out now. It’s okay.”

I wriggled slowly out expecting some trick to be played on me and to feel goat hooves on my shoulders. When I was completely out I turned and saw that the voice had come from Ewan. It was the first time I had heard him say anything louder than a mumble. His voice was light and sweet. Sort of delicate. But that wasn’t the only strange thing. There he was, sitting on the back of Satan holding his horns. And Satan was letting him. Lara wriggled out next and stood up slowly and stiffly by my side.

“Well, Bolt, it looks like Ewan’s the one with special powers.” She put a lot of effort into this and sounded super-sniffy.

Straight after that, as if thrilled to get the last word on the matter she walked back to the Palace of Wisdom, no doubt to make some sort of explanation.

“How come you never talk?” I asked Ewan.

He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “Don’t want to.” Then with a neat sort of cowboy manoeuvre he leapt off the goat and we both walked back together.

Back at the house we had to wait around for a while until all the little search parties had been called off. When Lara’s parents arrived, they came running over and gave her a big hug. She looked at me with an evil smile on her face. I could tell there was still payback happening. I was surprised though that no one was angry, and that no one got told off. I admired the adults for that. I knew it was tough holding back. They were sort of mellow. It must have been the mead.

After this it was time for everyone to go back to their farms around the mountain. There were lots of hugs and handshakes going on. I noticed for the first time that out on the main road, a few cars going past slowed right down to check everything out. Locals I guess. People are a bit nosy out there in the country. When the last of them had driven off we went back inside and Iain and Jamie made Milo for everyone.

Aunty Lorna asked me to help put Wee Jock down to sleep. I had never helped with little kids before. Didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t seem to matter. I was just an extra pair of hands while she did things with pins and nappies, tight little cardigans and fluffy trousers with feet-things sewn on the bottoms of the legs.

“Did you enjoy the League meeting, Sandy?” she asked as she draped the baby over her shoulder.

“Yeah, it was cool.”

“What was the best part?”

I was going to say the hide-and-go-seek or finding Lara but for some reason I said, “Hearing Ewan talk.”

She laughed. She laughed easily. “That’s a good sign.”

What did that mean? I wondered.

She leaned over to place Wee Jock in the cot and then, as if reading my mind, said “It means that he accepts you. He doesn’t do that to many people, I can tell you. At school he is regarded as a mute. I had to go in one day and get him to talk in front of the principal, otherwise they wanted him sent to Taranaki Base hospital for tests.”

“It must be hard not talking all the time. I know I couldn’t do it.”

“He’s found other ways,” she said, and that was an end to the matter.