The Desert's Edge

By Wendy Mills

Accompanied by Warrior and the Perceiver of the Furthest Distance, Grandfather Darwin and Livingstone have spent many weeks with Hugill and Kush in their Eden Garden, recovering from their Great African Expedition. One fine morning, Grandfather decides to take Livingstone to Egypt which is, after all, in Africa and not so very far from the route back to their home in Leicester Square Underground Station, London.

Grandfather believes that time spent in the desert and an encounter with some of the ancient mysteries of Egyptian antiquity will enrich all that they have learned from Hugill about Continuity and the Cycle of Being.

There is an added reason to make this journey: they are going in search of Grandmother Darwin’s long-lost cousin, Gertrude, a hieroglyphics expert, and archaeologist.

What follows is a journey that takes the intrepid pair even deeper into the inner workings of Earth and into the Land of the Soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wendy Mills
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781916305779

Book preview

PART ONE

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW BEGINNINGS

CHAPTER ONE

HUGILL’S EDEN GARDEN

‘Gha… gha… gha…’ laughed Grandfather Darwin from the depths of a dream.

We had been sleeping off the effects of a prodigious lunchtime feast of fruits and nuts in Hugill Macauley’s Eden Garden.

I opened my eyes and gazed up into the tree under which we lay. Hugill was draped along his favourite branch, Kush sat on his one shoulder, while Warrior rocked slowly – back and forth – on the branch above. All were in deep slumber.

I was lying next to Grandfather in the soft green grass beneath the tree. I turned to him and whispered, ‘Grandfather, you laughed out loud. Were you dreaming?’

Grandfather looked at me, his eyes twitching alarmingly. Ah, I thought. I know that look. In fact, it could be said that I had been waiting for just such a look for all the time we had been resting in Hugill’s forest after our hugely successful African Expedition. It could only mean one thing: another journey of a similar nature was on the horizon.

‘Livingstone,’ whispered Grandfather out of the corner of his mouth, not wanting to wake the others, ‘we’re going to Egypt! While we are in Africa, it seems a most sensible thing to do. We have a relative out there. Gertrude. Grandmother Darwin’s cousin. She is an archaeologist of renown, hieroglyphics expert, speaks Arabic fluently, a great character. Haven’t heard from her in years. I last saw her when she came to London on a visit in the early 1990’s. The British Library presented her with an award for all her work on the importance of the bee in antiquity. We must go and find her.

‘And besides,’ he stopped and gazed through his upturned feet, ‘I do believe that all we have learned from Hugill about the inner workings of life on Earth and the Universe, the interconnectedness of all lifeforms and the pattern of continuity that underlies everything and unites us all in one great cycle of being, can only be enriched, even enhanced, by such a journey. From all my readings and studies, there is much to discover in Egypt.’

The long speech seemed to exhaust him, and Grandfather fell back into the sweet-smelling grass, his mouth slightly open, to emit a very slight snore.

Egypt! My goodness me! Another Darwin Expedition for me to write up for our family annals, I mused as I lay back, my paws behind my head. And then there was Gertrude, a member of our own family who I had never even heard of.

I gazed up into the depths of Hugill’s tree. He loved that tree for its long branches that bowed to the ground, as if in homage to the Earth, and for its leaves, of an iridescent green, so juicy to eat. Mostly, it gave the right kind of shade on these hot days, of which, I discovered, there were many in Africa.

Hugill had, after all, managed to persuade us to stop for a prolonged period of rest with him and Kush in his treasured garden. During our stay, he and Grandfather spent many joyous hours reminiscing, with frequent interruptions, shrieks and laughs from Kush, who moved from Hugill’s shoulder to head and back to shoulder. How relieved he was to be back where he belonged, as close as possible, to his beloved Hugill!

My preferred spot during these - by turns funny, by turns serious - ruminations on life, was at Grandfather’s side and inside the circle created by Hugill’s legs and feet. There I sat and listened and listened. For, one day, I would write it all up for the family records. And, somehow, I would have to find a way of capturing, in words, the richness of his voice, the depth of his inner peace and the delicacy of his humour.

And what of dear Warrior, our much-treasured fellow traveller? He spent many hours rocking in sleep upon a chosen branch, his claws deeply embedded in the bark to give him extra balance. There he recovered from his great exertions on our behalf. Most days he was to be seen, body hunched over, head buried inside his thick, soft neck feathers.

Much to Hugill’s joy, the Perceiver of the Furthest Distance had decided to make her life with him and Kush in his Eden Garden. Where was she now, I wondered. I lifted my head a touch and saw her, not far off, her long and graceful neck stretching up to the topmost branches of an abundantly leafy tree.

Grandfather yawned, stretched from top to tail, and sat up. ‘Hugill, dear fellow,’ he called up into the tree, ‘I’ve decided to take Livingstone to Egypt. We have a relative out there we would like to try and find. What do you think?’

‘Egypt!’ shrieked Kush, suddenly wide awake. He lifted off Hugill’s shoulder and flew down to us. ‘What do you want to go there for? That’s crazy! It’s full of desert! And hot! Hot! Hot! Beyond belief hot!’ Each hot was accompanied by a lift off the grass, with bright yellow and green tail feathers spanned out, as if that fact would finally clinch the matter and we would stay on, forever perhaps?

Meanwhile, Hugill gathered himself into a crouch, and leapt down to where we sat.

‘Al Haml,’ he said, his voice sounding dusky and somewhat dreamy. He gazed into the trees, yet seeming to see nothing, for his eyes had a faraway look, and to me there was deep respect in that gaze.

‘I beg your pardon, my dear Hugill?’ asked Grandfather, his head to one side, also seeing Hugill’s distant look.

‘Egypt is a land of deep mystery. You will need a special guide on a journey of this kind. My good camel friend, Al Haml, he would be such a guide,’ he continued, coming out of his reverie, and looking at us, his ancient-wise eyes full of joy. ‘Many years ago, I helped him to escape his impoverished owner in Alexandria. He decided then to take on the name Al Haml. It means: He Who Wanders the Desert Without a Master. He has become a great wise camel, renowned across North Africa, and goes about doing much good. His reputation has spread far and wide. Perhaps Warrior can be persuaded to fly you both to Egypt to look for him.’

We all looked up to where Warrior sat hunched on his chosen branch, still rocking slightly. Unbeknown to all of us, he was wide awake and quietly listening, his slightly faded eyes watching Hugill intently. Hugill smiled lovingly up at the old bird and beckoned to him.

‘Come and join us, our good friend. We are busy planning Darwin and Livingstone’s next expedition.’

Warrior clicked his chipped and yellowing beak, stretched his neck upwards, shook his head, then his entire body ending in his wingtips, and swooped down to land beside us.

‘Ah Egypt! Now there is a journey!’ he mused, a hint of excitement in his ancient voice.

‘You are not considering it, Warrior?’ asked Kush, in horror, as a high-pitched shriek disappeared down the back of his throat.

‘I am,’ Warrior replied, picking himself up regally. ‘Indeed, I am.’

‘You’re nuts! Crazy!’ and with that Kush flew up into the tree to land on a branch above us, far enough to make his point, but not so far that he couldn’t watch and be a part of the proceedings below.

CHAPTER TWO

OF MAPS AND ROUTES

What was happening below?

‘Warrior, from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you,’ said Grandfather, bowing formally to the grand old bird, beckoning to me to do the same.

Then came the moment of profound solemnity, even reverence; the moment when Grandfather, lovingly and with infinite care, withdrew his roll of maps from his rucksack which was always by his side wherever he was, in case of need.

In a hushed silence, Hugill and Warrior drew close as Grandfather searched through the roll to extract his great map of Africa. This he and I stretched out over the grass, pinning the corners down with fruit.

The weighty silence continued as we all pored over the greens, browns, yellows, and blues of one of the largest continents on the planet. Even Kush deigned to descend from his lofty perch to stand on Hugill’s head and to peer down with us.

This ritual could have gone on for quite some time had not our musings and gazing been broken by a hot and sweet breath that lifted feathers and fur.

‘Dear Perceiver!’ said Grandfather in delighted surprise.

So absorbed were we all that we hadn’t heard the Perceiver of the Furthest Distance make her way slowly towards us, curious to see what we were up to. We all huddled sideways to make space for our graceful giraffe friend’s large and beautiful head.

The silence continued awhile longer as she too gazed at the map.

‘Ahem,’ she coughed delicately, looking lovingly at Warrior, ‘I heard mention of Egypt. That’s a long and, may I say, harsh journey for you, dear friend, even before you get to the land of the desert.’

‘My very words!’ piped up Kush, determined to have a say.

At which, Warrior drew himself up and puffed out his chest, saying a touch haughtily, ‘I flew to Piccadilly, London and back. Though I do admit that I flew west across all the green parts of central Africa and hugged the coast where I could. And I carried two mice and a bird across Kenya to Tanzania. And, may I add, in my time as a