The Girl Who Couldn't Smile by Shane Dunphy Page A

Tristan, I felt sure – had planned.
    When we got back on to the main road I stopped. I was in a foul mood and desperately worried about Tammy. I considered myself of no use to anyone.
    ‘I’m going to stick around until I find Tammy,’ I said to Susan, who was bringing up the rear of the group.
    ‘Okay,’ she said, unimpressed by the news.
    ‘Look,’ I said, knowing it needed to be said, ‘you were right. The kids weren’t ready for a trip like this. I fucked up.’
    She sighed and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Shane, I’m actually really surprised at how well most of them did do. We had a pretty good afternoon.’
    I didn’t know what to say.
    ‘I’d bring them out again.’ Susan trotted off after the others. When she had gone a short distance she called back: ‘Tammy is up a tree just near where we were sitting. She climbed it about two minutes after we arrived. If I know her, you’ll have to haul yourself up there too to get her down. Good luck.’
    And then she was gone.
    The woods were shady and cool as I retraced my steps. Somewhere in the distance a pigeon made a sound like an engine shuddering into life. I stood in the little clearing and felt like an alien invader. I walked slowly from one tree to another, peering upwards into the branches. I had to do thecircuit three times, and was beginning to think Susan had been making fun of me – payback for my earlier grumpiness – before I spotted Tammy, a good thirty feet up among the branches. She was clinging to the trunk of the oak like a koala bear, and was completely motionless, as if she had somehow melded with the tree. My mind shot back to my conversation with Lonnie earlier that afternoon about the krasnoludek – the spirit of the wilderness. Tammy fitted the description. As I circled the base of the tree, trying to work out how to get up to her, I thought about how closely Lonnie seemed to identify with the children, while I was at constant loggerheads. Such thoughts were not helping me in my task, so I set them aside. For the moment.
    I examined the branches and footholds I might use to get up to where she was perched, and was utterly befuddled as to how she could have scaled the ancient giant at all. I was certain I was going to have dire difficulty.
    ‘Tammy,’ I called. ‘Tammy, it’s Shane. The bus is going to be picking everyone up soon, so we have to go back to Little Scamps. Can you come down, honey?’
    She didn’t move. I wondered if she might be asleep, which filled me with even greater dread. If she woke up suddenly, she might easily fall and be killed or seriously injured.
    I started to climb without thinking. I let my body do the job, trusting that pure instinct and physical memory would carry me unharmed to where I needed to go. As a child I had been an inveterate tree climber – most of the kids around the area where I grew up were – and a challenge of this sort would have been seen as a treat. From a lengthy career working with children I was acutely aware that the rules of adulthood quashed our delight in exploration. I just hoped my tree-climbing skills were not buried too deeply beneath layers of civilization.
    As I moved I felt something come awake in my muscles – a sort of warmth and electricity. A trickle of sweat rolled down the small of my back. Was I enjoying myself?
    Within a remarkably short time I was just below her – a tiny foot in a grubby off-white trainer dangled at my nose, and I could have touched her leg if I’d so wished. I worked my way around to the opposite side of the trunk and settled down more or less beside Tammy, but not too close.
    She was not asleep. I could see clearly that her eyes were open, and her knuckles were white from the force of her grip on the bark of the tree. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, which was stained green with moss and grime. She seemed almost catatonic.
    ‘Tammy,’ I whispered. ‘You’ve given me quite a fright this afternoon, do you know