DRYAD

We were outside, in the garden, when it happened. I remember it was dark, though the moon was fat and bright.

“Reggie” I said softly, and moved forward to take his hand. I felt some remorse, it was true. He was so dull, so hopeless, so wrong for me. But still, I was sorry for the hurt I was about to cause him; yet the excitement inside me was bubbling, raising higher in my breast, threatening to spill from my mouth and eyes and ears like white hot lava.

Reg saw it in my face and recoiled. Shock replaced suspicion on his shrivelled features and his glazed eyes sought mine.

“My God,” he whispered. “It’s true then….it’s true.”

I told him everything after that. Like a deluge, the held back pent-up words poured out into the night air, over Reggie, over the house, over the sham of our marriage.

They seemed to me to cleanse everything as I spoke; washing away the ugliness and pretence; to leave instead a fresh peace, a happiness newly minted.

For a marriage to have lasted as long as ours and yet be so empty of love, or communication, or caring, seemed impossible. If it wasn’t for our son, Daniel, then fifteen - and thank God he was staying with his friend that night - well, I really don’t think I would be here at all. The man standing in front of me; he was a stranger. I

realised how little I really knew him. All I did know was that when he was with me, I was so lonely. He never hit me, it was true; the cruelty wasn’t physical. It was just the horrid cold indifference that had crept into my bones over the years. So the fire I felt from my lover had blazed even more brighter.

Then, in front of my eyes, Reggie had bent over, shaking uncontrollably. Oh no, I thought. He’s having a fit, or a heart attack. It must be the shock.

In spite of everything, I felt dreadfully guilty. I bent over him and put my arm round his skinny shoulders and murmured platitudes, trying vainly to comfort him.

It was then that he raised his face; his ugly, weaselly face. If he had raised his fist and smashed it into me I couldn’t have been more hurt. For the tables had turned.

Reggie was laughing, spluttering and coughing with mirth; and he was laughing at me!

“Oh, Ruth,” he said weakly “A Green Man! Oh Jesus, I thought you were serious, you daft bitch! God, you really ought to see Dr. Roberts. Maybe he could recommend you to a specialist - a tree surgeon perhaps!” And he spat out the vile words with another obscene burst of merriment.

He seemed evil, possessed with the need for my torture. I have never hated him so much as I did then. I had to get away from him, away from his horrid taunts. All I could do was think of my lover; I wanted to run to him, to find solace and comfort in his hard, kind body, and be soothed by the lullaby of his arms overhead.

Because, yes, it was true! I loved The Green Man!

That spirit of nature was alive and whole and had brought a special kind of magic to my life. The joy and the elation this statement gave me meant almost as much as if Mother Nature herself had embraced me. The truth was so beautiful, and at last it was released for all to observe.

Then, as my lover and I stood entwined, from behind came Reggie’s ugly voice.

He was laughing still, great sobs of laughter, and pointing and cat-calling, and hurling names at me. He seemed so like a demon that I hardly knew him; though a dam must have burst in him too, because the abuse and the language were thick in the air and

were flying at me like missiles, so that I cringed and clung to the Green Man. I had no idea my husband hated me so much, hated me as much as I did him. He called me faithless, and boring; he said our marriage was a washout and called me a trashy wife who would put a tree - yes, that’s what he called my lover. A common tree! - before her husband and family. He said I was unfair to him and Daniel; he had worked hard to provide for us but I was always so unappreciative.

The truths hit home like bullets. For they were truths, I could see that now, and, like a lightning flash igniting the air, I saw myself as he must see me - shallow, cold and ungrateful, my head filled with nonsense. I was stunned with the revelation, and letting go of the Green Man, I began to back away.

And then I saw him dimly as Reggie saw him. He had a trunk and branches, not body or arms. What was I doing with this piece of vegetation? Where was my demon lover, my Jack-in-the-Green?

It was then that I became aware of the noise. It was filling the air all around, and when Reggie started abusing me it became much worse. A storm must be brewing I thought, for a strong wind was blowing, twigs and debris were performing a cyclonic dance all around us, and the Green Man was again there before me in all his

incredible glory, waving his arms ever more wildly. As I looked up in amazement, his limbs were threshing in the night sky, and there was a strange moaning amongst them; low at first like the growl of a menacing beast, but gradually louder, until the sound became deafening and I had to clap my hands to my ears.

I had never seen the Green Man like this before, not even in the wildest of the February storms, and it was an alarming sight. Reggie was scared too. He gawped open-mouthed at my lover, and I could see the terror dawning in his eyes.

Suddenly the terrible tragedy happened. The Green Man seemed to howl - that’s all I can describe it as, and then his brawny arms were all round Reggie, completely encasing him, his gnarled fingers were like twigs pushing down his throat and in his eyes, and my husband threshed wildly for a moment then was still. I screamed and rushed to help him, but Reggie was dead.

The Green Man dropped his poor, limp, body back onto the lawn and stood upright once more, and miraculously the wind dropped and the night was still again.

I’ve never got over losing Reggie. I was surprised. For months I had lived for the Green Man and hated my life, but when he took that life away from me I was so angry, and worse - I was frightened of his power, for what if one day I displeased him – or Dan?

The funny thing was, I was going to move away, to leave the Green Man, if I hadn’t been arrested for Reggie’s murder. The police didn’t believe my story. They said I had a kitchen knife in my hand and when my husband taunted me I had just snapped.

All nonsense of course, but I have been locked away in a mental hospital for many years now. However, I know the truth!

It was the dryads, those wicked tree-dwelling nymphs. They invaded the Green Man and, like the malicious sprites that they are, they turned his head and made him do that terrible thing. My lover was innocent, I have to believe in that.

But now everything is gone; they ruined my life. The house is sold, Daniel has long since moved away - right to Australia, the other side of the world, and Reggie is dead.

Now all I have are my drawings of my lover. He does look strangely like a tree, however many times I sketch him. I show the doctor my book and say proudly.

“Reggie’s ashes are buried under here. Maybe his spirit has been sucked into the sap, to lay in the arms of the dryad. She’ll find him a very cold ghost, if so.”

And I laugh, but the doctor does not.