The Mountain Shadow

‘No, but I ride a motorcycle, and that’s like surfing civilisation.’

‘You know that totally, like, forever wave?’

‘I have a gas tank. I know how far forever is.’

‘No, I mean, it’s like that tendency field jelly that Idriss was talking about.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I’m, like, surfing the superposition, you know, between equally surfable waves. Rannveig and Idriss, they really opened my mind up so much, man. Sometimes, I feel like I’m so full of ideas they’re falling out of my head.’

‘I’m glad you’re happy, Vinson. And it’s great, the coffee bar thing. Really happy, for you and Rannveig. Well, guess I’d better be getting along. We –’

‘This coffee thing is amazing,’ he said, gesturing toward large sacks, arranged against a wall. ‘I mean, like, if I just explain the difference between Colombian and Ghanaian blends to you, it’ll blow your mind wide open.’

‘Thanks for the warning. But you know, Karla will be along any minute, so I doubt we’ll have time to get into a big story like that.’

‘If she comes back, I’ll start it again,’ he said unhelpfully.

‘How’s Rannveig?’ I asked helpfully.

‘You know that wave, man, the perfect wave that, like, won’t let you fall?’

‘So glad you’re happy. Where do you think Karla and Rannveig got to?’

‘Just smell these fresh beans up close once,’ Vinson said, opening a sack. ‘They’re so good, you’ll never drink another cup of coffee again.’

‘Is that your slogan?’

‘No, man, our slogan is our name, man. Love & Faith, that’s the name of the place, and that’s the slogan.’

There was an innocence in Vinson that Rannveig had lost, when her boyfriend had died from the same drugs Vinson unthinkingly sold. And the innocence she found again, in his willingness to change, was the tender truth in the name they’d chosen for their business, Love & Faith.

‘Smell my beans,’ he insisted.

‘Ah . . . I’m good.’

‘Smell them!’ Vinson said urgently, dragging a dead body of beans toward me.

‘I’m not smelling your beans, Vinson, no matter how Colombian they are. Stop dragging that carcass.’

He shoved the bag against the wall again, just as Karla and Rannveig came back to join us.

‘He won’t smell my beans,’ Vinson complained.

‘He won’t?’ Karla scoffed. ‘The Lin I know is a bean fanatic.’

‘Stuart made a special blend,’ Rannveig said proudly. ‘I think it’s the best coffee I ever tasted.’

‘I’ve got it in the other room,’ Vinson said, ready to leave. ‘You can smell it, if you like.’

‘I’m good,’ I said quickly. ‘I can smell it from here.’

‘I told you, my Easter Bunny,’ Vinson said, hugging Rannveig. ‘People will smell our coffee from the street outside, and they’ll be, like, hypnotised or something.’

‘Good luck, guys,’ I said, drawing Karla out of the renovated shop.

‘Opening is at full moon,’ Rannveig said, mid-hug. ‘Don’t forget.’

On the street, we climbed onto the bike, but Karla stopped me before I could start the engine.

‘What did you feel from Vinson?’ she asked, her arm on my shoulder.

‘Waves of beans,’ I said. ‘What did you feel from Rannveig?’

‘Did he tell you what they’re calling the place?’

‘Yeah. Love & Faith. Why?’

‘Far as I can see,’ Karla said, ‘he’s the love, and she’s the faith.’

A car pulled up beside us, blocking the way. It was a hearse, in fact, with Dennis, the Not-Sleeping Baba, at the wheel. Concannon was in the passenger seat. Billy Bhasu and Jamal, the One Man Show, were sitting in the back, beside a shop window mannequin laid out in what looked like a clear plastic coffin.

Concannon had his elbow on the window.

‘Wanted,’ he said, grinning at Karla. ‘Dead or alive.’

‘Move,’ I said.

‘Hello, Karla,’ Dennis said. ‘So nice to meet you, awake. Did we meet, when I was on the other side?’

‘Hi, Dennis,’ she laughed, her arm around my shoulder. ‘You were certainly high, the first time I saw you. What the hell are you doing?’

‘We are testing the movements of Sleepers, while they are transported in a sleeping chamber,’ he said patiently. ‘I have attached sensitive strips to the mannequin. They will indicate bruises, of varying degree. That will help us to determine the most comfortable inner cushioning of the sleeping chambers we will have made for them.’

‘You’re making your own coffins?’ Karla asked.

‘Indeed,’ he said, passing a chillum to Concannon. ‘We must do it. Current sleeping chambers force the Sleepers to have their legs pressed together. Our sleeping chambers will have a wider stance. It’s very important for the comfort of Sleepers.’

‘I see,’ Karla smiled.

‘They will have the softest silk lining, padded with feathers,’ Dennis continued, his hands on the steering wheel. ‘And they will be made of glass, so that the Sleepers can have plants, small animals and insects roaming about in the earth, all around them, to keep them company while they sleep.’

‘Nice,’ Karla smiled.

‘May I present Billy Bhasu and Jamal, the One Man Show?’ Dennis said. ‘Boys, this is Karla-Madame.’

Billy Bhasu waved a smile at Karla, while Jamal wagged his head, jangling chained gods.

I couldn’t help myself.