Scars

by Dan Scottow

  Diana, pre-scars, and Richard, pre-wheelchair stand in a garden. A pretty brunette in her late teens beside them. Richard stares down at her, tall, handsome. She gazes off, away from the camera, smiling. They are the epitome of perfection. All good looks and expensive clothes. Perfect white, straight teeth. Diana watches Richard. She throws back her head mid laugh; he looks like a guilty schoolboy… the punchline of his joke caught eternally on film. In the days when people used to print photos and keep them forever. Before the world became so… disposable. They are all dressed in their finery, as if they have been at a wedding, or some other formal occasion. Diana wears a floral gown and wide-brimmed coral-coloured hat, her blonde hair, glossy and pristine, tumbling down about her shoulders from beneath it. She really was quite beautiful.

  Lucy places the photograph back in the bottom of the drawer and closes it, a sad smile on her lips.

  She crosses to the window, staring out towards the woods. She wonders how Diana copes, being more or less alone here all the time.

  The sun is setting, rain bouncing off the ground. The trees sway angrily in the bellowing wind as the wooden frames rattle within the walls. Lucy shivers. It occurs to her that anybody could stand unseen in the forest, watching the cottage. She scans the horizon for movement but sees nothing. She stands a while regarding the sunset. A sight she rarely gets to see at home. It’s stunning. Even with the weather at its worst, the colours are astounding; reflected in ripples on the surface of the loch. She can see why an artist would love it here. The light. The vistas. The hues. It’s all so… perfect.

  As the last of the sunlight ebbs away, she draws the curtains and flicks off the lights. She knows she shouldn’t be downstairs. Diana made that clear. She retreats to her bedroom, changing into a long-sleeved nightie, folding her clothes neatly onto a chair. Pulling the drapes open, she stands at the window, looking out across the water. The boat bounces at the end of the jetty as the rain ripples on the inky surface. An eerie luminescent glow now fills the landscape, highlighting rocks and trees, which glisten with moisture. The scene is transformed with the changing light. Lucy leaves the curtains open, climbing into bed. She sinks down as the last of the evening birds sing their lullabies. A fox cries, an owl hoots. The daytime creatures retreat, making way for their nocturnal friends. Lucy lies with her eyes wide.

  Has she made a mistake, she wonders? She’s not used to such solitude. She had thought that being away from everything would help. But sometimes, isolation can be even worse. Alone with your thoughts.

  She shakes her head, rolling over. Completely awake as the day drifts away.

  11

  Diana

  Something has roused her from her slumber. Groggy, she places a hand up to her face. She extends her fingers a few times, trying to dissipate the pins and needles from them. She thought she heard a crack but can’t be sure if she was still dreaming. Was there a clattering against the window? Reality or fantasy? Who knows? But now she is awake, in the middle of the night. A thing she detests.

  It’s when the worst of her thoughts come.

  She’s aware it must be late, as the room is dark, aside from the slivers of moonlight creeping in through the cracks of the curtains. She sits up in her bed, picking up a pot of sleeping pills from beside her. She tosses two into her mouth, washing them down with the dregs of her glass of water. The sound comes again.

  Definite, piercing. A sharp smack against the windowpane. Like a pebble striking it.

  Still half asleep, she grapples around for her cane, finding it propped against the nightstand. She swings her legs slowly from under the blanket, feeling the reassuring solidity of floorboards beneath the soles of her feet. Heaving herself, she rests the bulk of her weight onto the top of the stick. She knows she relies on it too much these days. The doctor has told her to try to walk without it at least a few times a day. But she doesn’t bother. It’s easier this way.

  The noise comes again.

  She frowns as she limps towards the window. Her limbs often take longer to wake than the rest of her. Fiddling with the hem of the curtain, she pulls it slightly, peering through a tiny gap at the side. Her eyes scan the landscape, though her vision is blurry. As she stares, something strikes the glass, the loud crack filling the room again. Her head whips back instinctively. Placing her hand against the surface, she scans the horizon. Her gaze comes to rest on a stack of stones a few metres away from the house, just outside the treeline. The moonlight glistens on the wet structure. A tower of six or seven stones, descending in size as they get towards the top.

  Her heart pounds. She shivers, placing her other hand onto the window, her eyes now darting frantically around.

  As she squints into the darkness, she sees a figure. It hovers at the perimeter of the woods before stepping backwards into the trees, disappearing in the black.

  Diana stares out in horror. Too afraid to look away but terrified of seeing something again.

  Eventually, she allows the curtain to fall, and hobbles back to her bed. Pulling the blanket up around her face, she lays staring at the ceiling. As the pills start to wash over her, she drifts off to sleep, the solitary figure in the woods in the forefront of her mind.

  12

  Lucy

  Lucy has been up a while. She has already bathed and fed Richard. By the time Diana is up and showered, she is in the garden tinkering with the old bicycle. She’s rubbed it down with some wire wool she found in the shed, removing a great deal of rust, and lubricated the chain and gears. She’s also fixed the punctured wheels. It reminds her of her childhood, when she would do these things with her father.

  When Diana finds her, she is on the lawn in the sunshine, pumping the tyres.

  ‘Good morning,’ Lucy says cheerfully as Diana approaches.

  Diana smiles.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asks.

  Lucy shrugs.

  ‘When it eventually got dark, yes, I was out like a light. It was a long day for me.’

  Diana laughs. ‘Yes, I suppose you won’t be used to the hours of daylight we have up here?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Oh God, tell me about it. As an artist, it’s amazing.’

  Lucy doubts Diana is awake late enough in the evenings to appreciate it, but she smiles and nods, regardless. Diana hovers nervously, as if she wants to say something.

  ‘Were you outside last night, in the woods?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Late. After dark.’

  ‘No.’ Lucy frowns.

  Diana looks confused.

  ‘Have you had breakfast?’ Lucy asks.

  Diana shakes her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can make you some toast if you’d like.’

  Diana holds up her hand. ‘No really, I’m fine. Thank you.’

  Lucy glances at her. The woman is eyeing her with an expression she can’t quite place… she looks… worried. She watches as Lucy moves the valve of the pump to the front tyre and begins to inflate it.

  ‘How’s the bike coming on?’

  ‘I don’t think it’ll win any races, but it’s okay.’

  ‘Good. The weather has brightened for you.’

  Lucy glances around, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Yes, it really is wonderful. You’re right, the scenery changes with the elements.’

  They both look up into the sky as a blackbird swoops down from the trees, close to the lawn. The morning sun reflects a greenish glint from his feathers.

  ‘I’m thinking of going out for a wander. Unless you require me to do anything before lunch?’

  Diana shakes her head.

  ‘No, that’s fine. Mylo will be arriving with supplies shortly. I’ll need you to help put them away, but after that you’re good to go.’

  ‘Mylo?’ Lucy stands, rubbing her hands together as she squints into the sun.

  ‘His mother owns the shop on the other side of the loch. Brings our groceries by boat each w
eek.’ Diana nods towards the jetty. Lucy looks out across the water. The loch seems completely different. Yesterday it had been an ominous mass of dark tempestuous waves, lapping at the shingle shore of the beach. Today, a serene mirror of blue stretches out before her.

  ‘No problem. When will he be coming?’

  ‘Should be arriving any time now.’

  Right on cue, a boat chugs around from an outcrop in the water. The hum of the engine grows louder as it nears. Diana limps towards the pier, Lucy follows. The boat pulls up to the end of the jetty, and a slim man in his forties hops ashore, tying the boat to a cleat.

  Diana smiles as he approaches. Lucy notices her fiddling with her hair, positioning her plait, stroking it gently with her good arm. The man hurries down the pier in their direction. He glances at Lucy briefly, then looks quickly away towards Diana. Lucy eyes him up and down. He wears a thick navy-blue cable-knit jumper despite the weather. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing brightly coloured tattoos adorning both his forearms, all the way down to his hands. A large orange koi carp decorates one arm, surrounded by Chinese symbols and a rabble of faces, clouds and waves. In the space between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand, is a small red rose, with black thorns swirling around it into the shape of a heart.

  ‘Mylo! Hello. I see you brought the sunshine!’ Diana chirps. She is cheerful, warm, like a different person.

  ‘Hey. Yeah, it’s been horrendous.’ His accent is Scottish, but not thick. A slight lilt, as if he’s lived away for some time. He looks at Lucy again, nodding, assessing her with serious eyes.

  ‘Oh, how rude of me.’ Diana blushes. ‘This is Lucy. From London. She’s the help.’

  Mylo’s dark eyes linger on Diana, and then flick back to Lucy.

  ‘Pleasure to meet you.’ He holds out his hand, and she shakes it.

  ‘Likewise.’ Lucy beams. He has bushy eyebrows, a thick beard, and his head is surrounded by a full mane of shaggy dark-brown curls. It strikes Lucy that he is devilishly handsome. Rugged. If a little unkempt.

  ‘Did you just arrive?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘And she’s already fixed that old heap of junk.’ Diana steps forwards, standing in between them, nodding towards the bicycle on the ground.

  ‘Right,’ he replies, standing awkwardly as if he doesn’t know what to say.

  ‘I thought I’d go and explore. See what’s around,’ Lucy chirps.

  Diana takes another step closer to Mylo, positioning herself further between him and Lucy. She places her hand on his arm.

  ‘We should get these bags unloaded. We’re holding poor Lucy up.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mylo replies, heading back to the boat.

  ‘I don’t mind, honestly,’ Lucy shouts, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

  ‘Oh nonsense,’ Diana continues. ‘We don’t want to keep you.’

  She doesn’t smile. She glares at Lucy. The warmth she was displaying upon Mylo’s arrival has disappeared completely.

  He begins to unload the shopping from the deck. Lucy picks up a few of the bags and carries them to the cottage. She spies some large, glossy red apples, sitting in the top of a bag, and her stomach rumbles. Mylo follows behind with some boxes. She steps inside. The kitchen is hot from the intense sunshine. Flies buzz around, escaping through the open door. Mylo brings the groceries in.

  ‘If you’d like a tour out on the water, I’d be happy to oblige,’ he says, without looking at her.

  ‘Thanks. That would be fantastic.’

  ‘It can be lonely around here. Diana doesn’t care, she loves to be left alone, but some people can find it a little isolated.’

  He pauses, staring at a wall.

  ‘I can take you down to the marina if you like. We can get some lunch there. It’s really fantastic.’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’

  Mylo places his boxes onto the kitchen worktop, then heads back to the boat. Lucy strolls beside him, avoiding Diana’s stare as she does. Diana takes a few steps along the jetty.

  ‘Here, let me help, Mylo,’ she calls after them.

  Lucy turns. ‘Oh don’t be silly, Diana. It’s too much for you with your stick. I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.’

  Diana bows her head, looking away. Lucy catches Mylo’s eye. He appears embarrassed.

  Lucy unloads two more bags, and he grabs a huge box, carrying it behind her.

  ‘That’s your lot,’ he says as he drops it on the counter.

  ‘Thanks.’ She beams.

  ‘Right.’ He reaches over, picking up a pen from the worktop. He takes her hand, lifting it. He scribbles on the back of it.

  ‘There’s my number. If you want that boat trip, give me a call.’

  She nods and begins to unpack the shopping as he returns to the jetty. A few minutes later she hears the engine start, and it speeds off over the water. A thud causes Lucy to turn. Diana is standing in the doorway, a face of thunder.

  ‘He seems brooding,’ Lucy says, grinning.

  Diana hobbles forwards, so she is right in front of Lucy. She leans in, so Lucy can smell her stale breath.

  ‘Don’t you ever embarrass me in that way again. You hear me? You’ll remember your place.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m your employer, and I’d appreciate it if you heed that. Don’t ever speak to me like that again.’

  ‘I apologise. I honestly didn’t intend to offend you.’

  Diana limps away, leaving Lucy in the kitchen. She unloads the bags, placing all the items away. She fills a plastic bottle with water, then walks into the garden. Diana is sitting at the table out back. Lucy ties her hair into a ponytail, pulling a baseball cap onto her head. ‘I’ll be off then, Diana. Unless you need anything else.’

  ‘Don’t get lost. And watch out for snakes,’ she replies coldly, without even looking at her.

  Lucy picks up the bicycle, wheeling it towards the line of trees. She hops on and pedals away, with a sense of unease building within her.

  13

  Lucy

  She’s been pedalling for about thirty minutes. The distant sound of cattle echoes in her ears as birds twitter and dance through the air around her. The road had zigzagged up a steep hillside through the dense forest. Eventually she emerges from the trees, high up towards the top of the hill.

  A huge pink buddleia in full bloom to her left is teeming with bumblebees. They buzz from flower to flower, busily collecting their bounty. She inhales the scent as she passes, perspiration soaking her back. She stops a while, staring out across the loch, sipping some water from her bottle. The land rolls around her, treetops below. In the distance, a wind farm decorates a hilltop, the colours pale with a hint of blue. Even this seems beautiful. A row of fluorescent-pink fishing buoys bob about below. A few yachts are out, making the most of the sunshine, gliding elegantly through the water. Lucy pedals again, heading towards a gorse-covered hillside, its yellow blooms beginning to die off, but still brightening the vista for now. Dense violet thistles litter the landscape, and she thinks how quintessentially Scottish this place seems.

  She smiles as she passes foxgloves and wild heather. Sheep wander fearless from fields into the road. She swerves to avoid them. They pay her no heed.

  Halfway up the hill, her legs burn and ache. She can’t take it anymore. She hops off the bike and leans it against a silver birch. Her phone beeps to life, and she smiles. It’s a long way to come to get reception. But it’s something.

  A stream babbles over stones, and she skips across boulders to the other side. As she does, an impossibly blue butterfly, no more than two centimetres across, flutters past her face, dancing about her shoulders. It veers away through some nearby bushes. She didn’t even know a thing that colour existed in nature. She chases after it, trying to get a better look, clambering over rock faces, pushing past tall vegetation. She skims a huge fern, running her hands over its fronds. It leaves a residue on her s
kin. She presses on through the bracken, spotting the butterfly again on a branch, and lurches forwards. Suddenly the ground stops abruptly before her, plummeting down almost vertically to the water below. A sheer face of grey rock falls away from the ledge beneath her feet. Had she been moving faster, she might have miscalculated. She shudders, turning to the right, and pushes up further, where she finds herself at the top of a cliff. Edging further, loose pebbles tumble beneath her, dropping down so far she doesn’t hear them splash.

  A gnarled ancient oak twists out from the edge, trying to reach towards the light. Someone has attached a rope to a branch which hangs out beyond the precipice. It’s knotted around a thick stick at one end, to create a seat. Swinging her leg up, she slides onto it, pushing herself away from the edge with her toes. She swings out and her arms tremble as the ground disappears from beneath her, glancing up to check how secure the knot is. Heart pounding in her chest, she dares herself to look down. Probably should have checked that first, she thinks.

  It’s a thick rope, and feels sturdy, so she relaxes a little, taking in the surroundings as she glides back and forth. The skeletal tips of salmon-farm nets off the shoreline poke out from beneath the loch ominously. The water within them white and frothy, from the poor creatures thrashing about, trying desperately to escape. She watches them sadly for a moment. They’re far below her, but she can make out the large fish launching themselves above the surface now and then, colliding against the sides, and falling back into their prison. She glances down, and for a moment she wonders, what if I were to let go and fall backwards into space? She imagines herself sliding from the swing as it propels forwards, plummeting down into the icy water below. Sinking into the murky depths, her heavy legs tangling with the reeds at the bottom.

  The panic as the water fills her lungs. The resignation as she realises there is no escape.