by Anna Larner
Action woman, hey? Eve caught Moira’s eye. Eve immediately took a was definitely not checking you out gulp of her drink. Moira shifted slightly and resettled.
“Oh, how lovely,” Lillian said, resting both hands at her throat. Her eyes flickered over Moira.
Eve suspected her mother was trying to place their neighbour on the lawn at six, with Moira valiantly negotiating a bobbing olive in her pre-dinner martini.
Alice scoffed, “Yes, amazing isn’t it, given that holiday lets normally push out the locals to steal the best views.” Alice leant back slightly, her arms folded unapologetically in front of her, her eyes avoiding Moira’s.
Lillian’s expression turned to one of horror at the thought of being complicit in a crime. “But surely,” she stammered back at Alice, “I would imagine tourists are important too?”
“Oh yes, we’re very pleased to welcome visitors to Newland,” Moira quickly intervened, “of course.” As she said this, she glanced at Eve, who smiled self-consciously in response.
At that moment two children bustled in, nets in hand. Moira promptly told them to leave their nets against the wall and to wash their hands at the painting sink. With this interruption, the Eddisons took their leave.
*
Moira found it difficult to sleep that night. She gave up trying and stood waiting for her stovetop kettle to come to the boil. She filled her mug with camomile tea and leant against the worktop. A hen squawked and she instinctively looked at the kitchen window, which by day, revealed the beauty of the hills and loch, and by night, became a black mirror. Moira looked at the reflection of the woman looking back at her. The curls of her hair, wild, the creases around her eyes signalling the pathways of past expressions. Her mouth, sad perhaps, she thought, turning down at the edges. The white letter S on her black T-shirt stood out, illuminated by the kitchen light. The surface of the letter was cracked and worn. Moira placed her hand over the letter in an urgent way, as if she was checking that it was still there.
Staring back absorbed by her reflection, Moira felt the years rushing back towards her youth. She was twenty again, dancing in her T-shirt, moving with the crowd, looking up at the stage, her heart beating strong and fast with the rhythmic music. Moira felt her head spin and opened the kitchen door to seek relief from the warm night in the hope that it would still her heart. In doing so, she disturbed a hen.
“Shh now, shh.”
Moira looked at the windows of Loch View, worried that she might have disturbed her neighbours. She found herself smiling again at the thought of the Eddisons, at the thought of Eve. She recalled Eve’s face, her smiling, shy eyes, and instinctively reached again for the S of her T-shirt, resting her hand once more across her chest.
The blinking headlights of a car travelling along the road on the opposite edge of the loch intermittently illuminated the dark surface of the distant water. She watched the moving light, the flickering movement inducing a trancelike state and the beginnings of sleep.
Moira took one last look at the windows of Loch View. She wondered how long the Eddisons were staying. The dark curtained windows gave no clue. Shaking her head, closing her kitchen door firmly, Moira chastised herself. “What does it matter to you, Moira Burns, what does it matter?”
*
Eve kept playing the scene at the centre over and over in her head. I can’t believe we thought it was a coffee shop, oh my God, how embarrassing. Wait till Rox finds out—I’ll never hear the end of it. Startled by a hen squawking, Eve looked across to the window, just visible in the moon-lit night. She nestled down into her sheets and closed her eyes. She called to mind the two women at the centre, the aloof hot blonde and the friendlier neighbour. Eve’s mouth felt dry and her body hot. She swallowed, pulled the bedding down from her torso, and reclosed her eyes.
In that private, blurry space between awake and asleep, the friendly neighbour stood smiling, drawing Eve towards her. Aroused by the unexpected images conjuring themselves in her head, Eve moved her left hand across her chest; she could feel her heart beating. Thoughtlessly, sleepily, her right hand slipped beneath the sheets. She imagined herself undressing slowly, deliberately in front of the woman, who kept smiling, beckoning, and inviting…
A hen squawked again and flapped outside. Eve rolled over. “Eve Eddison, it’s your Land Rover fetish.” And with this giggly thought Eve drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Four
Eve woke to her phone beeping with a text.
Just got back from night shift (yawn) had patient in A&E tell me that he had seen the Loch Ness Monster. Thought of you. R X
Eve pulled on her dressing gown, drew back the curtains, and sat heavily on the window seat. Squinting from the bright morning light, she dialled Roxanne’s number.
“Och aye the noo!”
Eve moved her ear briefly away from the speaker as Roxanne’s voice bellowed down the phone.
“So, bored, eh?” Eve asked with a giggle.
“Absolutely not,” Roxanne said, with a serious tone. “I have watered your plants, eaten the last of your custard creams, and graded each BBC Breakfast presenter’s outfit out of ten.”
“Wow, hectic. And? No, let me guess. Carol the weather girl, top marks again?”
“No, she looks a little frazzled.”
“I know how she feels. We did this long hilly walk yesterday. It was good, but Rox, I’m knackered today.” Eve could hear Roxanne munching. “I thought you’d finished the custard creams?”
“Yes, I have, but now I’ve moved on to your ginger nuts.” Roxanne failed to suppress an immature snigger. “I know strictly speaking there’s nothing funny about ginger nuts but…”
Eve could hear the clucking of next door’s hens. She could also hear the voice of her neighbour calling the hens to feed.
“Why can I hear chickens?” Roxanne asked. “You sound like you’re on a farm.”
“It’s our neighbour—she keeps hens. We met her yesterday in fact. She works for the Newland Forest Trust. She’s nice.”
“The what?”
“The land around here’s owned by the local community, she works for them.”
“Oh, right. You seem to know a lot about her.”
“No, not really,” Eve said, matter-of-factly. “Like I said, we bumped into her yesterday.”
“Okay. So any Highland McTotty?”
“I’ve only been here a day, Rox, give me a chance.”
“Well you seem to have got to know all about Newland and the chicken woman already.” There was a pause. “Is the chicken woman hot?”
As Roxanne spoke, Moira came into view. She was dressed in blue cords and a green and blue chequered shirt.
Eve watched as Moira’s shirt blew in the wind, hugging against her with each gust. Whether it was because Eve had fantasized about Moira the night before, or whether she was not expecting to see her, Eve found she couldn’t take her eyes off her.
“Eve?”
“Huh? Sorry, Rox.”
“So, this neighbour, worth asking for a private woodland tour?”
“No, I mean, I don’t know. I mean, I need a tea. I’ve just woken up. Oh my God.” Eve ducked below the window.
“Eve, what?”
“She saw me looking at her.”
“Why are you whispering? Who saw you looking?”
“The neighbour. Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m a perv.”
Roxanne asked, with complete seriousness, “Why? Is she naked?”
“Naked? No. Why would she be feeding her hens naked?”
“Well then, why would you think she would think you were perving? Unless, of course, you were. Oh my God, you were.”
Eve over-protested, “No.”
“Okay, just one question will settle this. Has she got curly hair?”
“I don’t know, I can’t remember.”
“Can’t remember? As if. Have another look.”
“What? No. I can’t look again. I’m going to have to crawl out of my room. T
hat’s what I’m going to have to do.”
On her knees, Eve crawled underneath the window, emerging from her bedroom onto the landing, with her phone pressed to her ear.
“Morning.” Esther, freshly showered and immaculate, looked down at Eve, somewhat confused.
Eve quickly said, “It’s my back, it goes sometimes.” She eased herself up, held the small of her back, and stretched. “There, that’s better. You look a little tired, you okay, sis?”
Esther nodded, and with an amused, somewhat suspicious smile, said, “Tea? Mum and Dad have gone to the local shop for supplies for a barbecue tonight.”
“Sounds cool. Yes, please, to tea. I’ll be down in a sec. I’m just on the phone to Rox.”
Eve watched Esther disappear downstairs.
“Your back? Don’t you mean your mind?” Roxanne asked through a mouthful of ginger nut.
“Yes, thank you for your morning input, Rox.”
“Pleasure. Oh, and Eve, keep me updated on the naked curly-haired chicken neighbour situation.”
“She wasn’t naked.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.”
“I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, Rox. See ya.”
Roxanne, despite the teasing, always made Eve feel good. She also, Eve was certain, had a way of knowing when Eve fancied someone, whether or not Eve herself was yet to realize.
*
Eve opened the french doors from the kitchen. She drank her morning tea seated on the steps to the garden, gazing sleepily at the softly shifting waters of the loch. She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place.
Eve glanced across to the neighbouring fence. All was quiet.
With tea in hand, accompanied by the odd yawn or two, she took a leisurely, sleepy stroll around the garden.
The garden of Loch View was orderly and yet kind of wild at the same time. Rocky mounds were littered with border plants and areas of grass were allowed to grow long for meadow flowers to flourish.
Eve let the smooth grasses and soft flower heads run through her fingers. Rain in the night had left a reviving, sweet, oxygenated air. Eve could smell coconut. Okay, odd.
As she pottered by the lower part of the neighbour’s fence, she was startled by a kerfuffle at the bird feeder, on the other side of the garden.
Eve spluttered, “No way. That’s so funny.”
A pheasant had managed to land itself on the feeder, which rocked precariously.
Before Eve could fetch Esther, she heard a familiar voice from over the fence observe, “They’re not the brightest.”
Eve jumped.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Moira said, standing facing Eve, spade in hand, smiling.
“Oh, no, it’s okay. Hi.” Eve felt herself blush as she tried to gather herself together. Should she mention perhaps that she was just taking in the view from her window? No, on reflection that sounded…pervy. She could say, I wasn’t looking at you earlier, but then no, that would be rude. Eve desperately searched for something to say that wouldn’t give Moira the impression she was weird.
Looking over to the birds, Eve said, “They’re very pretty though, I mean the colours and everything. It’s the male isn’t it, that, you know, looks the prettiest?”
Moira nodded. “Need to look their best to attract a mate, poor things—a lot of pressure really for them.”
“Yeah,” Eve said with a shrug. “It’s not like they can just hang out in their dressing gown and slippers, I mean, it’s not like they’d have much chance to pull like that.”
There was a slight pause.
Moira briefly glanced up and down at Eve.
Eve felt her stomach drop. Oh my God.
Eve looked at her slippers, placed her mug on the ground, and wrapped her dressing gown more closely around her.
“No, indeed”—Moira cleared her throat—“although, of course, you don’t see that many pheasants in their dressing gowns.”
Eve said emphatically, “Well, my point exactly, we know why.”
Moira looked down and shook her head in amused disbelief that she was engaging in a conversation which she knew to be completely ridiculous but at the same time felt peculiarly insightful.
Before Eve could politely excuse herself, a second pheasant, a female, joined the first.
“Really?” Eve puffed out her cheeks. “Something’s gotta give.”
Sure enough, the feeder toppled, causing an ungainly flap of feathers and the spilling of seeds onto the lawn and nearby step. The smaller birds let out a united chirp of disapproval, as the two culprits strutted nonchalantly away.
Moira leant against the fence, elbow propped, left hand casually supporting her chin. She was watching Eve who was captivated by the pheasants.
“Blimey, they’re a hazard aren’t they?” Eve said, her gaze falling to Moira’s hand. Okay—no wedding ring.
“Yes, troublesome. Need some help?” Moira pointed to the fallen bird feeder.
“Oh.” Eve felt a little panicked. “I don’t know, I don’t want to trouble you.”
Moira gestured towards her vegetables. “The beans can wait.”
“Well, if you’re sure, then, yes, thank you. I’ll let you in.” Eve felt herself blush again. She suspected that she had been blushing for most of their conversation.
“Okay, I’ll get my toolkit.” Moira fixed her spade firmly into the ground and headed to her croft. Stopping at the door to bang her boots free of mud, she glanced back at Eve.
Without thinking Eve waved goodbye. She had no idea why she was waving at her. She was seeing her in a few minutes.
Moira nodded in acknowledgement and then disappeared into her croft.
Turning towards Loch View, Eve paused. Toolkit, eh? Eve looked back towards where Moira had stood. Nah, it’s her job isn’t it? Not everyone is gay, Eve Eddison, not everyone. I mean straight women can be good at DIY can’t they? I mean, there’s… As Eve walked towards the house, her reflection in the french doors reminded her, once more, that she was in her dressing gown. I’m such a tit! “Esther.” Eve called her sister for help. “Our neighbour’s coming over to help put the bird feeder back up.”
“What?” Esther called in confusion from the kitchen. “What’s wrong with the feeder? Eve?”
Eve bounded up the stairs. “You’ll need to let her in.”
Eve, rushing, pulled on her jeans and her favourite FatFace blue hooded top. Giving her bed-hair a ruffle back into shape, she checked her look in the mirror.
“Okay you’re behaving like a fool. Why do you care what she thinks? She’s just the nice woman from next door. It’s not a date, calm it down.” Eve tried to breathe slowly in and out. “Calm it down.”
*
“Hello again.” Reappearing in the garden, Eve spoke as nonchalantly as she could manage.
Moira looked up from working on the fallen feeder. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, tucked a curl of hair behind her ear, and replied with a smile, “Hello again.”
“Here you go, milk no sugar, right?” Esther emerged, balancing three mugs in her hands. “It’s Moira, isn’t it?” Esther asked, handing Moira her tea.
“Thanks. Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry, are you Esther or Eve?”
“I’m Esther, Esther Roberts.” Esther paused, her eyes, for no apparent reason, filled with tears. “Pleased to meet you.”
Eve rubbed her sister’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Looking anxiously at Eve, Esther frowned. “Should I be using Eddison now?”
Eve shrugged, taking her tea. “I don’t know how it works. All I know is that he was a complete bastard for cheating on you and you did absolutely the right thing dumping him. No question about that.”
Esther thrust her shoulders back, stuck out her chest, and took a deep breath. “Anyway—what does it matter?” Esther directed the question at Moira, who gave a blank look in reply.
There was an awkward pause in the conversation.
“I’m sorry about that whole c
offee thing yesterday. You must have thought we were bonkers,” Eve said.
“You weren’t the first to make that mistake and you won’t, I’m sure, be the last, although”—Moira blew over her tea to cool it—“you were admittedly the first to request a skinny cappuccino.”
Eve placed her hand over her face with embarrassment.
“It’s our mother’s favourite, you see. Sorry about that,” Esther said, chuckling at Eve’s reaction. She placed a protective arm around Eve and gave her a squeeze. “And this is my sister, Eve Eddison. Right, I’ll leave you guys to it. Nice to meet you, again, Moira.”
“Yes, you too, Esther.”
Behind Moira’s back, Esther gave Eve a wide-eyed knowing look.
Eve returned the glare with a look of exaggerated puzzlement.
When Roxanne had let slip to Esther that Eve was a lesbian, Esther had not commented either way. Eve sensed there had probably been much discussion about what the Eddisons should do about the gay thing, which Eve had been grateful that she had not been party to. Eve had noticed, however, that since the revelation, Esther would, now and then, give her sister the knowing wide-eyed glare, after spotting that Eve liked someone or that someone was paying Eve particular attention. Esther’s gaydar was, however, somewhat unnervingly hit and miss. After all, less than a month ago, Eve had explained to an earnest Esther that no, the lollipop lady didn’t fancy her, because unless Esther hadn’t noticed, she stopped the traffic for everyone. Esther had taken the opportunity to suggest to Eve that she should be open to all possibilities.
Moira gave the feeder a nudge. “It’s not going anywhere for now, but it probably needs concreting in. But that’s for the owner to do.”
“Okay. Right.” Eve stood looking fixedly at the feeder, with her hands on her hips. She hoped her stance suggested knowledgeable consideration, but she rather feared Moira could tell she was in fact thinking, Yeah, I haven’t a chuffing clue. “Thanks, Moira.”
Despite having mended the feeder and finished her tea, Moira did not seem to be in any particular hurry to return to her beans. She continued chatting happily with Eve. She pointed out the names of the hills, lochs, and hamlets Eve could see from the garden.