Down time

Awake! for morning in the bowl of night

Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight...

Except it hasn’t, as dawn is around 7.30am in November, even here on the side of Foia mountain in the Algarve. And I’ve woken in the dark, at around 4am, every morning for the past couple of weeks. According to Chinese tradition, 3–5am is the time when you connect with your feelings. It’s also a time of solitude, with only the distant barking of unknown hounds to disturb the peace.

Early rising in the dark is kind of OK in your own house, because you know where to find light switches, kettles, coffee cups and cigarette filters. Here on the mountainside the first 40 minutes is spent fumbling around unfamiliar territory for any or all of these.

But the darkness is warm, and the sweet smell of eucalyptus from the slopes of the mountain is at last working its magic on my very troubled soul.

I’ve never needed to ‘get away from it all’ as much as I do now. This isn’t so much a holiday as an attempted retreat from everything except Mia’s death. Six days into my stay I have stopped grinding my teeth, and started to actually listen properly to what’s going on around me, instead of disappearing into deep reveries at every opportunity.

Just before I left the UK I received a message which threw me. I learnt for sure that Mia hadn’t been unconscious from the first blow, as I had been led to believe by the police, but had died slowly and no doubt agonisingly in the company of someone to whom I am eternally indebted. I was spared the details but I know it must have been an agonisingly painful death. A vision of it can recur at any moment, and it debilitates me.

I want to meet the young man who had endured such terror on Mia’s behalf. I still cannot comprehend what he must be going through, and I doubt he will come to terms with those events in the near future. I wonder what proviso is being made for him by the Australian government in terms of counselling, but I suspect the answer will be disappointing, given he’s expected to complete his 88 days farmwork and is still at Home Hill. A brave, tough-spirited Welshman with a deep sense of decency. We will meet one day soon.

I’ve also heard that Ayad’s trial isn’t going to take place now, or anytime soon. He is being detained for as long as it takes to find out whether he is genuinely suffering from mental health issues, or whether he’s actually dissembling.

This is disappointing, not because I want him to go down for murder as soon as possible, but because I want to know more about the situation at Home Hill. I will have to tread more carefully than I want to around potential witnesses. I still have every faith in the Australian judiciary system, but if I am to take action against Home Hill, I need to speak to witnesses. Court action against Home Hill would create massive publicity for the campaign, could potentially mean the hostel would be closed down, and could create a test case for other hostellers to take out actions against their employers, the hostel owners.

Here at Paula and Tom’s farm (quaintly named Carunchosa, or ‘worm-eaten’!) I’ve had a week’s induction into the house and its surroundings. I know which key is which, I know how to get to the nearest shops and how to get to Praia de Luz and the flat there. I’m now comfortable driving Tom and Paula’s 4x4 around the circuitous mountain routes. I’ve identified presents for Tom and Paula to thank them for this opportunity to stay in one of the most beautiful parts of the world I have ever visited.

The mountain is covered in every conceivable variety of fruit and brightly coloured flowers, and the recent rain storm is causing green shoots to appear everywhere. The place oozes with fecundity and the promise of sweet tasting delights, from quince, olives and avocado to persimmon, figs, pomegranates, oranges… the list is seemingly endless.

And the wildlife congregates accordingly. Owls are out hunting now, and hoot their delight. Geckos, like miniature crocodiles, congregate around the external light and clean up on flies. And wild boar roam the hills at night, occasionally crashing noisily away from potential predators. Their clumsiness and lack of real defence makes me wonder how the species has survived for so long, but I suppose the clue is in their nocturnal habits and omnivorous scavenging.

So I am far from alone on the mountain. I have the world at my feet, and Mia in my heart.