Chapter Eleven
It’s quite clear everyone is breaking me in gently at the sanctuary. Since I arrived a few days ago, I’ve been given all the good jobs: feeding the sloth pups, helping to prepare the adult sloths’ meals, observing how to cater for the sloths’ medical needs. Flash is coming along well. I’ve made a point of checking in on him as often as I can, although I’ve been incredibly busy. Everyone has made me so welcome, it’s hard to believe I’ve only worked here a couple of days, and only known these people less than a week. Already I feel as if this was fated: my trip to Costa Rica, ditching Aidan, taking a stand and doing what I want for a change, thinking of no one else and to hell with the consequences. Sometimes you just have to pursue your dreams, right?
I’ve gelled really well with the girls and it’s like having a group of sisters. Ella’s by far the quietest of them all. The studious one. She reads the history of sloths, and all the scientific articles, and always has her nose in a book when she’s off duty, and occasionally a sloth hanging off her arm too. She’s also the youngest of us all. I’d reckon around twenty-one, but I haven’t actually asked.
Mariangeles and Federica are a joy to watch. They bounce off each other so well, and they’re so funny. They remind me of me and Becca. Becca. I’m loving it here, but how I wish she were here too. Then everything would be perfect. Well, not quite everything. My, to all intents and purposes, non-existent relationship with Mum and my controlling ex-boyfriend situation could be magically sorted for me, but generally speaking, life is pretty good right now. Apart from Roisin. Do you ever feel as if someone’s privy to information you’re not, and somehow they’ve taken against you and you don’t know why? Well, that’s the impression I get from Roisin. She’s not openly hostile towards me in front of others, although now I think about it, she has been a bit less welcoming when we’ve been in the women’s block with the others, but certainly in front of the guys, she has been all sweetness and light.
Whatever. If she doesn’t like me, that’s her problem. It would be nice to get on with everyone, but life doesn’t work quite like that. As long as she keeps out of my way, we’ll get along just fine.
‘Kat?’
I turn to see Victor gesturing towards me. ‘Can you give me a hand? Are you free?’
‘Of course. What do you need?’
As we walk, Victor talks. ‘We’ve started a census to try to gauge how many sloths there are in the immediate area. By immediate area, we mean a five-mile radius.’
I frown. ‘So, also outside of the sanctuary’s boundaries?’
‘Yep. We’re trying to help the local wildlife foundation get a handle on sloth numbers. We have special markers to record where they were sighted. Since they don’t move very quickly, it’s safe to say that in a month, we’re looking at the same sloths.’
‘How far do they travel per day then?’ I smile. ‘When they’re not asleep, that is.’
Victor chuckles. ‘Yeah, they sure like to sleep. I wish I could sleep ten hours a day.’
From the way I’ve seen him work, I can’t imagine him sleeping at all. He’s such a powerhouse.
‘About thirty-five metres a day is the most they can travel, but they often choose not to do even that.’
Lazy beggars. I smile once again at the ironic names the sanctuary has given them all.
‘Here, take this.’ He hands me a notebook and pen. ‘We’ll start close to the sanctuary. You write what I find. That lets me concentrate on locating the sloths and attending to them if they need any care.’
‘But how will you know if they are our sloths that are simply close to being released into the wild, or if they’re sloths we haven’t encountered before?’
‘Ours have tiny GPS tags or collars. We release them into the wild and then we check on them a couple of times, a couple of weeks apart, to ensure they’re OK.’
‘I see. Well, lead the way.’
We meander through the rainforest, walking literally in circles from the sanctuary, where possible.
‘There!’ Victor stops suddenly. An adult sloth, possibly about three years old, is asleep in a tree. It’s so well camouflaged by the trunk, I missed it. It’s not Victor’s first rodeo, though, and I also get the feeling little escapes him. He takes something out of his pocket. A compass?
‘Write this down, please.’ He gives me a series of numbers, which must be GPS coordinates. Who knew things would be so high tech here in the rainforest? Then he says, ‘Male adult sloth, no visible injuries. Three to four years old.’
I note it all down.
‘Right, let’s go. He’s fine, and as you see, asleep.’
We continue our trek, but find no more sloths until just as we’re turning back, I spot one in a bush.
‘Victor. Is this guy asleep?’ I note he’s a little on the skinny side.
Victor arrives at my side and bites his lip as he studies the sloth. ‘He may be, but something’s wrong. See there–’ he indicates a patch on the sloth’s fur ‘–and there.’ He shows me another spot, what appears to be a scratch or a cut.
‘Yeah. What is it?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m not certain, but it looks to me like he has been attacked by a dog. I’d say it’s fairly recent, maybe in the past few days, and he’s a little thinner than I’d usually expect. He might be dehydrated.’
Funnily enough, the exact same thing had crossed my mind.
He moves closer to the sloth. ‘He’s still breathing at least.’
Well, that’s something. I, too, can see the gentle rise and fall of the sloth’s chest.
‘So what do we do?’
‘I’ll call it in. See if we can get Dexter here with a medical kit to assess him properly. We really need two of us to transport him back if we have to take him in. They tend to claw at the cage, and we need gloves.’
I don’t bother pointing out that there are two of us. I probably wouldn’t be able to carry a sloth cage that distance.
Dexter arrives ten minutes later. The sloth hasn’t moved. He checks its eyes, its fur, its claws.
He nods at Victor. ‘Good call. We’ll need to bring him in. He’s definitely dehydrated and I don’t like the look of those marks. I think that’s a bite more than a scratch. Probably a dog.’
Victor sighs. ‘We’ve seen too many of these dog attacks recently. Why can’t people keep their dogs on leads when they’re near an area where wild animals are prone to roaming?’
I agree, but I don’t know if the Costa Ricans have the same regulations about keeping dogs on leads in certain areas the way we do back in the UK.
Dexter and Victor manage to carry the sloth effortlessly to the cage, whilst I jot down the notes they each dictate to me. I’m amazed it stays asleep. It’s probably just as well as I know how stressed they get when handled. I don’t fancy being near its claws when it’s agitated.
A sliver of something that feels like pride shoots through me at the careful efficiency Dexter displays when dealing with the sloth. He really knows his stuff.
As we all walk back, Victor and Dexter debate further what may have happened to the sloth and discuss his initial treatment. I walk alongside, quietly, absorbing what they’re saying, until my phone bursts to life. Aidan! You have got to be kidding? He can get lost. I press decline call and put my phone back in my pocket.
When we reach the sanctuary, Carlos is waiting. Whilst Dexter fills Carlos in, Victor excuses himself, explaining he needs to go muck out some of the cages.
‘Do you want some help?’ I ask.
Victor whirls around, his face a picture. ‘You want to muck out the cages with me?’
To my side, I feel Dexter’s eyes skim over me before he fully commits himself once again to his conversation with Carlos.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say I particularly want to clean up poo, but I kinda feel I should offer.’
Victor grins. ‘C’mon then. Plenty poo for both of us.’ He puts his arm around my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, and I like how it’s almost brotherly.
As we wander off, I can almost bet Dexter is watching us. The hole I feel burning into the back of my T-shirt is caused either by his gaze, or the sun is doing a fine job today.
An hour later, I’m parched and wishing I’d brought my water bottle with me. I left it on the table in the breakfast room. This is hard work. My T-shirt is sticking to me, I can’t count on two hands how many times I’ve shoved my bedraggled, lank hair out of my face and I’m filthy. I probably pong, too, but you know what, I’m having a fabulous time. Victor is good to chat to, and the more I listen to him, the more I feel my Spanish improving. I still find it difficult sometimes to articulate what I want to say, but we get by. Once my ear acclimatised to the differences between Castilian Spanish and the Costa Rican variant, it became easier. And it’s fun. I might not be earning any money whilst I’m here, but I’m gaining invaluable experience, making friends and working with the animals I love most in the whole world. Life doesn’t get better than this– minus the cleaning out poo from cages.
‘Time for lunch.’ Victor wipes sweat out of his eyes with a glove, then leans on his rake.
‘I’ll second that.’ I’m starving. Breakfast was a long time ago. Anyway, I’m curious to know how the latest sloth is getting on. I also wonder what name we’ll give him. We? I say that as if it’s up to me, although I did get to name Flash. And just like that my thoughts turn to Dad. He’d be so proud of me, but probably not at the way I handled, or didn’t handle, Mum. He’d be happy for me, pursuing a life out here, doing what I love, with like-minded people.
‘It’s my favourite for lunch. Picadillo de Vainica. Sofia serves it with tacos.’ Victor smacks his lips together.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Sounds spicy.’
Victor shakes his head. ‘Not too much. It has cumin and oregano, but its main ingredient is green beans.’
‘Green beans?’ I like green beans, but I think of them as a side dish, not the main event.
‘Yes, fried with onions and tomatoes.’ He laughs. ‘You’re not convinced. You’ll see. Oh, and we add ground beef.’
Ah, so it’s a beef dish. I thought it was a vegetarian dish for a second. Not that I have anything against vegetarian dishes. I love a good ratatouille the same as the next person, but I’m hungry and I find that if I eat only vegetables for lunch or dinner, I’m hungry again two hours later. And this manual work, which I’m not used to, has my stomach rumbling.
When Victor opens the door to the canteen, the aroma that reaches my senses is heavenly, and I sniff the air, realising just how truly ravenous I am.
Mariangeles, Ella and Javier are already seated, chatting away animatedly, with Dexter, Roisin, Carlos and Federica at another table. I can’t believe we’re almost last to lunch.
As we stand plate in hand behind Alejandro, who smiles and asks how things are going, Sofia says, ‘I think I’ve outdone myself today, mis ninos . Tell me it isn’t good.’
‘I already know it will be, Sofia,’ drawls Victor.
Teacher’s pet! But I mean it in a good way. They clearly adore each other, and I thank my lucky stars once again that I’ve become part of this family. Everyone is so kind and on the same wavelength. Living here is so far removed from the life I’ve left back in Scotland: the commute, the driving from client to client, the pressure of sales, the tiptoeing around the controlling boyfriend; it’s hard to fathom that that was my life until a little over a week ago.
I accept my plate of food from Sofia and thank her, then walk to the table Victor indicates and sit next to Alejandro, who hasn’t stood on ceremony and is chowing down his food, making appreciative little moans as he does so.
‘She wasn’t kidding,’ says Victor. ‘It really is one of her best yet.’
I close my eyes after I take a bite. This is incredible. It’s as if I’m visiting one of those amazing street food places you always see on cookery programmes, but I’m living here, with the cook, not having to travel to have this authentic taste of Costa Rica.
When I finish, I need five minutes to let my food settle as I’m stuffed. I note a discarded crossword puzzle book on the table to my left. I love crosswords, although I’m not sure how good I’ll be in Spanish.
‘Is this anyone’s?’ I ask, waving it around.
‘It’s mine,’ Dexter says. ‘Feel free.’
‘Thanks.’ I open it to a new crossword, or crucigram , and start reading the clues. It doesn’t help that I don’t understand the words of half the clues, so I enlist Victor and Alejandro’s help. Before I know it, fifteen minutes have passed.
‘Sorry to break up the party, but we need to get back to work.’ Dexter is standing over us. He studies the crossword puzzle book over my shoulder, then raises his eyes to mine and says, ‘May I?’
I shrug and say, ‘Be my guest.’ It’s his book, after all.
He jots down an answer, then pockets the puzzle book as we all take our plates up to the hatch where I note lots of dirty dishes piled up beside the sink.
‘I’ll wash up, Sofia,’ I say.
She waves a dishtowel at me. ‘Not at all. I have a dishwasher.’
‘Well, at least let me load that for you.’
She rolls her eyes as if she’s indulging a favourite child. ‘If you must.’
I lift the hatch and go around kitchen-side, where I unload and then reload the dishwasher, all the while listening to Sofia as she asks me how I’m getting on.
‘And I hear we have a new sloth,’ she says.
‘Yes, dehydrated, Dexter thinks.’
‘Carlos and Dexter gave him plenty of fluids earlier. He’s awake and they’ve attended to his cuts. Hopefully, we can rehabilitate him soon. You were doing the census with Victor, Carlos said.’
‘Yes, but, well, we had to abandon it when we found the sloth.’
‘Quite right. We can restart the data tomorrow. And are you settling in to your room OK?’
‘I am, thank you. It’s lovely, so bright and welcoming. Having all the flowers around really makes a difference.’
She winks. ‘Well, why have nature on your doorstep and not make the most of it?’
I totally agree. She couldn’t have any more nature nearby if she tried; she lives in a rainforest, with a swampy river off to one side and dozens of sloths all around, although we won’t know exactly how many until after the census is complete.
‘Kat.’
I jump. Dexter.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought you might like to see how our newest member is doing and what treatment we gave him to start his recovery.’
I nod until I probably resemble one of those nodding dogs that sit on car dashboards. Get a grip, woman! ‘That would be great.’ Turning to Sofia, I say, ‘Lunch was lovely, thanks again. Maybe you could show me how to make it one day.’
Sofia clucks. ‘Anytime. Now go see how that sloth is before Dexter combusts.’
I turn to see Dexter tapping his fingers against the door threshold. It strikes me that he sought me out, and I can’t help but be pleased by that thought.
As we walk towards the animal hospital, Dexter says, ‘That was noble of you this morning.’
My eyebrows scrunch up. ‘Noble?’
‘Yeah. Offering to help Victor muck out the cages.’
I smile. ‘Well, I gathered you’d all been super kind to me the first few days and not given me any really grotty jobs, so I decided that I didn’t want to take advantage and it was time to pull my weight.’
He grins. ‘I like the way you’re thinking.’
We enter the nursery and pass through it to the animal hospital.
‘Hi, Javi. How’s our newbie doing?’ Dexter asks.
‘I just checked his vitals and he’s OK. He woke up earlier, but he’s asleep again now.’
‘I thought sloths sleeping all day was a myth,’ I say.
‘Oh, it is, but when they’re indoors, they do tend to sleep more. Out in the wild, it’s probably more like eight to ten hours a day. Not quite the twenty that uninformed websites tend to bandy about,’ Javier explains.
‘I see. That is quite a difference.’
‘Yep. Anyway, are we ready to name this sloth?’ he asks.
Dexter shoots me a glance. ‘I am. Javi, your turn.’
‘I’m between two, but I’m thinking Turbo.’
Dexter and I both laugh.
‘Gotta stay in keeping with the theme,’ Dexter says. ‘Right, let’s keep Turbo comfortable. Kat, would you like to monitor Turbo so Javi can head into town for some supplies?’
Panic rises in me. What do I do?
‘No need to worry. He’s not exactly fleet of foot.’ Dexter smirks. ‘And sloths can’t jump, so he can’t launch himself at you. The most he’ll do is put a leisurely paw out, if he wakes. He may be a little disorientated. Give him some water through this syringe.’ He smiles then pats me on the shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine. I promise. Have a little faith.’
‘Yeah, right, I know.’ I sound about as confident as someone who’s terrified of heights, attempting their first parachute jump.
‘OK, so, Javi, let’s sort what you need in town and then I’ll check in with the team,’ Dexter says. He turns to me. ‘Kat, I’ll be back in less than an hour. Luciana’s next door if you need her. Just remember, always ensure the doors are properly closed if you have to leave the room even for a second. They need to click shut.’
‘OK,’ I squeak. I can do this. I can do this.
The door closes behind them and the responsibility weighs heavily on me as I eye Turbo warily.