Chapter 22 – 'Would you believe it!'
ALMOST IN AN instant, the spaceship was no more than a dwindling dot in the sky, soon vanishing into a cloud. Jacqui had seen no sign of anything to provide thrust: it had just lifted out of the water as if it were a helium balloon. Ah well. There was so much of the Trumpet-Eels' technology that she had never learned about—that she never would learn about.
She was home! A very different planet from the one she had left, but it was home. And this part of it, on the Antarctic Peninsula, seemed habitable enough. She luxuriated in the soft warm yellow sand, lying prone, unwilling to stir for a long time. When she did finally try scrambling to her feet, she felt heavy and unsteady—she was not used to Earth's greater gravity. She lay down again, and waited. Why hurry? It would pass.
The beach was fairly narrow, dotted in places with clumps of sea-kale, and beyond it was a strip of short grass. Yes! real grass, not the strange 'moss' that covered much of the dry land on the Eels' world. Beyond the grass she could see a narrow, steep-sided valley heading up and inland. It was tempting to go exploring, but that could wait. For the moment Jacqui was content to lie on the beach, watching the Sun sink—yes, the real Sun!—Earth's Sun, no Red Dwarf. She closed her eyes...
Dawn was breaking, and she realised she had slept. The tide was out, and there was a long stretch of wet sand between her and the sea. She could see her 'Dr Scholl' sandals which she had kicked off while swimming, some distance out. She wondered whether to go and retrieve them, but why bother? There would be no 'nasties' here: no spine-creatures buried in the soil waiting to ambush her. She might as well go barefoot—she was used to it.
Feeling rather stiff, she got to her feet, shouldered her rucksack with her precious papers, and set off, walking up the valley, which was covered in the same soft grass and dotted with bushes and ferns, and the occasional palm tree. A short way along she came to a little brook, and thankfully drank her fill and splashed the cold water over herself. She wondered if she could find anything to eat here. But surely, if she went far enough, she was bound to find people. Yes, real people: not Trumpet-Eels. If this was one of the few habitable places left on Earth, the people would be here...
She had walked about two miles when the valley broadened out into a level space and there were several trees around: trees that seemed more familiar to her. The grassy strip ran between them, and they seemed to be spaced out regularly, as if they had been planted. Coming closer, she realised that they were apple trees, and ripe fruit was hanging from the branches. Reaching up, she plucked a ripe apple and bit into it. O ecstasy! A real apple—real Earth-food, the first she had tasted for...how long! She picked another 'for later' and pressed on.
Apple-trees spaced regularly: she must be in some sort of orchard. That meant humanity must be not far off. Eagerly, she increased her pace, and a few minutes later she spied a curl of smoke rising beyond the trees. She could also hear animal noises, which she decided must be pigs grunting. Soon the orchard came to an end before her, and beyond there was a clearing with a rough-built house, little more than a shack, standing in the middle of it. Next to it was an enclosed pen which she guessed must be the pigsty. She put down her rucksack and stood for a while, watching.
As she stared, a young man emerged from the shack. The first human she had set eyes on for two years!—or was it one-hundred-plus years? Dark-skinned, heavily-built, in his thirties perhaps, with a bushy beard sweeping his chest, and dreadlocks reaching almost to his waist, he looked somehow uncared-for—but handsome none the less. He was dressed only in tattered blue shorts and sandals.
As she watched, he walked towards the pigsty, carrying a bucket, and went in: presumably he was giving the pigs their feed. As he emerged, and bent down, appearing to cut something off the ground, Jacqui felt somehow drawn towards him. She admired the dreads; she admired his physique. She marched out of the trees and began to approach him.
At that moment the man stood up and espied her. His eyes boggled; he dropped the cabbage and knife he was holding, his mouth wide open—
At that moment Jacqui realised: she was still naked. She had spent so long without clothes on the Trumpet-Eels' planet; she had almost forgotten how to wear them. It had never occurred to her to find some sort of covering now she was back on Earth. She could partly cover herself with her hair, which now reached below her waist, like Botticelli's Venus—but why bother? The man had seen her, all of her, and somehow she didn't feel embarrassed. She went closer.
At length the man overcame his amazement.
"¿Qué hace usted aquí?" he began. A Spanish-speaker—an exile from Argentina or Chile, Jacqui guessed. "Y...¿por qué está sin ropa?"
"No sé," she replied. "Estoy perdida. Acabo de llegar en platillo volante..."
The man showed no reaction. Perhaps it was commonplace, on this benighted latter-day Earth, for a nude stranger to drop in by flying saucer! Or maybe he just assumed, 'está loca'.
Never mind, thought Jacqui. She continued: "¿Está solo aquí?"
"Sí. Soy soltero."
"¿Cómo te llamas?" asked Jacqui, switching to the familiar 'tu' form. 'What is your name?' But somehow she already knew the answer.
"Adán. ¿Y tú?" Of course! The Spanish form of 'Adam'. Who else could it be?
"Me llamo Eva." She tossed the apple towards him, and he deftly caught it. Then she ran towards him and flung herself into his arms...
THE END
A/N: The title of this chapter is a joke, obvious to anyone who knows Cockney Rhyming Slang!