2. Bridegroom Oak-2
1371 Words
Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped by the side of the road. They appeared to be in the middle of a small forest, but the driver indicated a wooden sign pointing away into the trees.
‘It’s that way. If you like, I wait; if not, one mile straight, you find a café.’ He handed over a business card. ‘You need ride back, you call me.’
‘Danke,’ Karen said, smiling as she popped the card into her purse.
They paid the driver and got out, giving him a brief wave as the car pulled away. The road was quiet besides a gentle breeze through the trees. Patches of snow lay in some areas alongside the road, and it was cold enough that Emily was glad she had worn a second sweater underneath her jacket.
The sign pointed to a path leading into the trees. Fairy lights had been strung up on either side of the path to illuminate their way through the gloom that had taken over the world outside the sun. Emily glanced at her watch. Three-fifteen. They had about forty-five minutes until dark.
It was a short walk through the forest to the Bridegroom Oak. Emily knew it as soon as she saw it, an ancient tree set apart in a clearing, surrounded by fences to keep people away from its root area, with a single path leading right up to it, a wooden stepladder at the end allowing you to reach a small hole in the trunk, identified by yellow paint around the outside. She already felt intrigued; the fairy lights strung up along the fences only made it seem more magical, like she had stepped through a door into Narnia or Wonderland.
‘It’s the only tree in the world with its own postal address,’ Karen said, her Lonely Planet in hand. ‘For more than a hundred years, ever since two lovers used it as a secret meeting place, people have been sending letters to it, hoping to find love.’
‘Sounds a bit weird,’ Emily said. ‘Don’t the letters get wet?’
Karen rolled her eyes. ‘Apparently not. Even the postman who used to bring the letters found his wife through it,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s take a look.’
They approached the tree. Karen waved Emily first, but Emily shook her head.
‘Go on, it was your idea.’
‘I’ve already got a boyfriend.’
‘And I’m not looking. Just have a look.’
‘If you insist.’
Karen walked up to the stepladder, tested it for strength, and climbed up. She looked back as she reached the top, then, with the same tentativeness as Flash Gordon putting his hand into the Wood Beast’s tree stump, she reached into the hole.
‘Wow!’ she said. ‘There’s loads of letters in here.’
‘Let’s have a look at a few, then.’
Karen withdrew her hand and climbed back down. She passed a couple of envelopes to Emily, then turned over the others in her hand. ‘Postmarked Belgium, this one is.’
‘And this one is Australia!’
‘France.’
‘Morocco.’
‘Huh. Let’s have a look.’
‘Why are some of them open?’ Emily asked, pulling the letter out.
‘That’s the rule,’ Karen said. ‘According to the guidebook, anyone is allowed to visit and open the letters. But you’re only allowed to take one if you decide to reply to it.’
‘Kind-hearted, gentle, retiree, looking for a golden-haired golden heart,’ Emily read, then folded the letter back up and slipped it back inside the envelope. ‘I don’t think that one is quite right.’
‘Oh, so you’re thinking of replying to one?’
‘I didn’t say that!’
‘Look. This one is from London, and it’s still sealed.’ Karen opened the letter. ‘Help required. An ability with hammer and nails a must to mend a broken heart. I’m forty-five, divorced, but the kids are grown up! Looking for a partner for fun nights in the pub.’
Emily shrugged. ‘I’ll pass.’
‘Go on, you have a look. Put these back and see what else we can find.’
Emily glanced at her watch. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’
‘Then you’d better hurry up.’
With the letters in hand, Emily climbed up to the hole in the tree. She reached inside, felt a large pile of letters lying inside, dropped the ones she was holding and went to take a few more. The sensation was strange, like she had her hand in a cookie jar, picking something potluck which could lead to an adventure. She reached down farther, enjoying the feel of the envelopes on her fingers, the smooth edges, the rough corners of ones that had been opened and returned, the softness of those touched many times. She reached deeper until her whole arm was inside the tree, then brought up a few that felt cold to the touch.
Dead letters, forgotten.
She climbed back down and passed the letters to Karen.
‘Oh, look. China. And this one is from Brazil. Wow, it’s been in there four years.’ She withdrew the letter. ‘My name is Pedro. I’m sixty-seven. I have a small house but a big heart. If you’re alone in the world, come and be alone with me in beautiful Sao Paulo.’ She looked up. ‘Shall we keep it?’
‘He’d be seventy now!’
‘Oh, so sixty-seven would be okay?’
Emily chuckled. ‘Come on, we’d better go. This was fun, but it’s getting dark. I don’t fancy walking back through that forest, even with all these fairy lights.’
Karen sighed. ‘Okay, I suppose you’re right. Oh, look. This is another one from England. Cottonwood. Isn’t that near you?’
‘Oh my God, it is. Let me see.’
Emily took the letter and opened it. Written on a ragged piece of notepaper that had been torn off a telephone pad, it had the watermark for an insurance company at the top.
Dear Tree,
I’m looking for someone to save Christmas.
Asking for a friend. Actually, several.
At the bottom was a return post office address.
‘What does it say?’ Karen said, leaning closer.
‘That’s all,’ Emily said.
‘Might be a joke.’
Emily shrugged. ‘It doesn’t sound like it.’ She turned the envelope over. ‘It’s postmarked last year, so it doesn’t look like his wish was ever granted.’
‘Well, I suppose we’d better go.’ Karen grinned. ‘Are you sure you don’t want that one from Brazil? I’ve seen pictures of the beaches in Sao Paulo. They’re really nice.’
‘I’ll pass, but thanks.’
Emily took the letters from Karen, climbed up the tree and slid them back inside. As she heard the rustle of them landing, she felt a sudden lurching sense of regret. For a few seconds she stood, her fingers on the trunk of the ancient oak, just listening to the sound of the forest, of the wind in the trees.
With a shrug, she turned away.
They headed back along the path, but had gone no more than halfway when Emily stopped.
‘What is it?’ Karen asked.
‘I, um … nature calls.’
‘What, right now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘The taxi driver said there was a café just up the road. Can’t you wait until then?’
‘Um, no.’
‘Well, go on then. I’ll turn around.’
‘You wait here. I’ll go back by the tree.’
‘What, and leave me here?’
‘You’ll be in earshot. Keep talking to me. I’ll just find a quiet place. Shout if someone comes along.’
‘Just hurry up.’
Emily turned and hurried back along the path. She didn’t understand why her heart was beating so hard, but as the tree came into view it began to thunder as though she had just run a marathon. She ran to the stepladder and climbed up, reaching quickly inside.
There had to be a hundred letters piled up in the hollow inside the tree’s trunk. Emily pulled a handful out and flicked through them, but recognised none. She put them back inside, then pulled out another handful. Where was it…?
‘Come on, Emily!’ came Karen’s voice from back through the trees. ‘Your bum must be freezing by now!’
Suppressing a smile that did nothing to alleviate her growing frustration, Emily thrust her hand back inside once more. If she didn’t find it this time, she would give up.
She pulled a handful of letters out, flicking through them.
There.
Postmarked Exeter, a return address in Cottonwood.
She unzipped her jacket and slipped the letter into an inside pocket.
It might be nothing.
It probably was nothing.
Nothing at all.
Certainly not.
When she got back to Karen a couple of minutes later, her friend lifted an eyebrow.
‘You took your time,’ she said. ‘Anyone would think you went back to get a letter.’
Emily shrugged. ‘I was cold, that was all. Nature took a little longer to call than I expected.’
- Writer
