Walking out of this World

Walkers Rendezvous

At precisely 8:30 am on a drizzly Sunday morning in mid-October, Eddie-a purposeful man in his early sixties-manoeuvred his elderly Jaguar off the narrow lane into a muddy rutted car park. Set in the woodland clearing in an unspoiled corner of the Surrey hills, the wheels crunched over crumbling, fungus-encrusted remnants of an old log.

Momentarily, Eddie glimpsed a figure in a brightly glowing outfit lurking in the damp shadows of the surrounding trees. It was as if the light from the figure shone through his eyes into his head, seeking crevices in his mind unlit for years. In his mind's eye was an outline of a familiar young girl. For an instant, he glimpsed her face, not long enough for recognition but sufficient to sense a relationship between them. Once he could swing around to make out the figure in the trees, he could see only the autumnal brown of fallen leaves, and the image of the girl had vanished.

He pulled alongside the one other car, a compact city runabout belonging to Liz, a fellow Far and Fast Walks Society (FFWS) Surrey branch committee member.

Eddie swung his athletic frame out of his mud-spattered limousine, the well-defined features of his long face topped by a full head of shaggy white hair.

Liz, in her mid-fifties, was sturdy rather than elegant.

After brief greetings, Eddie rummaged in his car boot for his requirements as walk leader: his rucksack that included such essential items as a map, compass, rain gear, extra layers of clothing for cold weather, emergency first aid kit, packed lunch, head torch in case they were unable to complete the walk before dark, an electronic navigation aid and route recorder. Finally, he fastened his gaiters over sturdy hiking boots. 

'Weather's not going to be good,' observed Liz.

'No, looks like rain.'

'I've mapped the Christmas walk, so you can put it on the programme.'

'Oh good, lunch is booked for 1.30 pm. When do you think we should set off?'

'Let's go for 9. It's about 10 miles, and we've a stop for mulled wine and mince pies.'

Eddie scuffed his feet on yellowish mush shed from the tread of his tyres. Looking up, he again sensed the brightly clad figure among the surrounding undergrowth of holly, brambles and ferns. The light shone through once more into the recesses of his soul. The young girl was there, but now with a second girl, brassier and more overtly sexy. She seduced him while the first girl looked on frowning.

Eddie glanced at Liz and looked back, but the figure in the shrubbery was gone, along with the mental images dragged from his long-lost past.

Two more cars swung in, further squashing the mouldering log, partially obstructing the car park entrance.

Jenny, a bright, attractive divorcee in her forties, bounced out of her modest hatchback waving to Liz.

'Lizzy, that pumpkin and garlic soup recipe was brilliant. I loved it. You're a genius.'

'More where that came from. I'm buried under pumpkins this year.'

'Fantastic, love them. What happened about the roof?'

'I had someone in, but it's still leaking.'

'How awful for you. Couldn't they come back and do it properly?'

'I called, but he fobbed me off. Anyway, I don't trust him now.'

'Shame about that, but I'm sure other folks can fix it.'

'My Trevor would have sorted it.'

'Yes, I know,' Jenny commiserated. 'Must be awful for you without him. How are you bearing up?'

Eddie left the two in conversation, turning his attention to the battered four-by-four off-road vehicle that had pulled in a little distance away.

The occupant was a tall, powerfully built man in his early thirties. He did not catch anybody's eye, focussing on gathering what he needed for the walk. Eddie vaguely recognised the face but couldn't quite place who he was or where they might have met.

'Hello, I'm Eddie.' He put out his hand.

'Tim Drenbold,' said the man, without accepting the handshake.

'Er. I'm the walk leader for today.'

'Oh, right.'

'Have you been out with us before?'

'No, I usually walk with Thames Valley.'

'Ah, so you must be from over that way.'

'Yes, Slough.'

'So not that far then.'

'No.'

'I think I remember now; you've been on one of our challenge walks?'

'Yes, the Founders Memorial Challenge, last year and the year before.'

'That'll be it, must have seen you then.'

Eddie was relieved to break from the stilted exchange when cars came into the car park, further pulverising the log, reducing much of the attractive yellow glow of the toadstools to a beige pulp.

Eddie could now clearly distinguish the figure of a man in amber-orange clothing standing behind brambles in a cleared area just beyond the car park. Once again, the searchlight shone through into his mind. He was with the second girl between a high fence and racks mounted with bicycles. A third figure emerged, a powerfully built boy in football kit. There was anger and accusations. Eddie felt the impact of the boy's fists pummelling his body and smashing into his face. Then he was on the floor, the boy's heavy boots thudding into his body. Eddie screwed his eyes to see better, but the memories disappeared.

He tried to process the fleeting impressions that had briefly yet vividly intruded, but he had to greet a flurry of new arrivals.

Stan and Mary Potterswell were happily married and longstanding FFWS members. Reg and Ivy Nettleberry were another couple who had met through their hiking activities late in life after losing their original spouses. The two couples were happy chatting, so Eddie turned his attention to the others.

Larry Bettersby arrived in his flashy Porsche, a relentlessly athletic, thrusting individual in his mid-thirties competitively obsessed with setting record times.

Superficially, Karen Doddleston, another arrival, had much in common with Larry. She was obsessively sporty, fast, taut and wiry, sleek in her tight-fitting lycra, always quickly among the leaders in challenge events, a committed vegan, her diet sparing almost to the point of starvation.

Larry and Karen faced each other like boxers in a staged pre-fight weigh-in.

'Hello, Larry and Karen,' said Eddie. 'Glad you could come along.'

'Glad to be here,' acknowledged Larry. 'Sounds like it'll be a good walk.'

'Picnic lunch, I understand,' said Karen.

'Yes, no café or pub, I'm afraid,' said Eddie.

'So, you won't be getting your massive steak today,' remarked Karen, looking in Larry's direction. 'Surprised you're here, in that case.'

'I come for the walking.'

'Not from what I've seen,' Karen retorted. 'Always stuffing your face and guzzling ale whenever I've seen you anywhere.'

Eddie found an excuse to duck from the barbed comments. That log blocking the car park entrance was getting on his nerves. He wandered over to deal with it. The crumbling remnants of crushed rotten wood and slippery mangled yellow toadstools slithered in his hands as he picked it up to toss it to one side. The damp mess landed with a thud onto a heap of wet leaves and moss, releasing a cloud of fungal spores that blended into the miasma of clammy autumnal decay permeating the drizzle-soaked air.

As he wiped his hands on his trousers to remove the clinging wet mush of fungus and moss, Eddie made out the luminously glowing figure emerging from the trees bordering the car park, a man in bright yellow anorak and distinctive amber-orange hiking trousers.

Eddie reflected that he was the most brightly dressed of those present. If they happened to be out after dark and obliged to walk along any road, the man's clothing would qualify as high visibility, which could only be good.

A strong feeling overcame Eddie that there was something more to this man. He was some messenger, but the nature and origins of the message remained a mystery.

He noticed that by a remarkable coincidence, the colours of the man's clothing matched the strange toadstools growing on the rotting log. The man's jacket harmonised with the glowing lemon flecked with white around the toadstool's rim, while the trousers matched where the toadstool darkened at its centre.

The figure almost glowed as he advanced to Eddie. 'I'm here for the FFWS walk.'

'You're in the right place. I'm Eddie. I'm leading the walk today.'

'I'm Miles.'

'Is this your first time out with us?'

'Yes, though I hope there will be others.'

'Well, yes, I hope so too. We're always pleased to welcome new walkers.'

The man had emerged from nowhere rather than driving in, but this did not faze Eddie. He may have arrived earlier, walked around, popped into the woods for a call of nature, parked a little distance away, strolled, or had a lift. Nor was Eddie the least surprised he did not recognise the individual. Many unfamiliar people attended social walks, including new members and members from other FFWS groups such as Thames Valley or Sussex.

Eddie had a nagging feeling Miles was familiar. He didn't want to ask outright if Miles was a new member, or perhaps not even a member, lest he might make Miles feel unwelcome or cause offence by failing to recognise him.

'Have you come far?' 

'I'm over from the other side.'

It was not a detailed reply, so Eddie indicated with his hand in one direction. 'You mean from that way?' Eddie imagined Miles could have...