by Bee Lewis
‘Ah, right! You’re the guy at the garage. I remember now.’ Dan smiled as though he’d solved a mathematical puzzle. ‘I was a bit full of myself – I’d just had the offer accepted on this place.’
‘It was nice to see. I’m just glad someone has finally bought it and will put some life back into it. All of us are. We left a welcoming present for you, I hope you don’t mind.’ Mike gestured to the cupboards.
‘All of you?’ It was Dan’s turn to look puzzled.
‘The people living in the glen. It’ll be nice to have some new life up here. No-one has lived here for . . . well, I don’t know how long exactly, but it’s been donkey’s years.’
Esther shook her head at Dan’s lack of manners. ‘It was a lovely surprise, thank you. We were just wondering who’d been so kind. It was quite the mystery.’
‘Well, you’ll have noticed that we’re quite remote. Not much in the way of shops between here and Invergill. Your arrival has caused some stirrings among the locals, right enough.’ Mike’s smile was economical. ‘What are your plans?’
Dan answered him. ‘We’re setting up a writing centre, putting on short courses and the like, but if that doesn’t take off, we’re also toying with linking up to some of the outward-bound activities in the area. With these mountains around us, there must be a call for people wanting to go caving or climbing.’
Esther took up the theme. ‘And if that doesn’t work, we can always resort to just doing B&B.’
‘Aye, well, you’re maybe right. I’d say you’ve a lot of work to do before anyone comes, though.’ Mike looked at Esther. ‘And it won’t be easy with a babby on the way.’
‘How did you know?’ Esther, puzzled, looked from him to Dan.
‘Yer man here mentioned it.’
‘Really?’
Dan cut in. ‘So, what do you do up here, Mike?’
She tried to shake the feeling that there was something Dan wasn’t saying, but it gnawed at her as she listened to the two men talking.
‘In the winter I’m a ski instructor, but in the summer I do all manner of jobs. I’ll take work wherever I can get it. I was kind of wondering . . . well, with summer approaching and with so much to do around here, you might want an extra pair of hands about the place?’
‘We have builders coming on Monday.’
Esther glared at Dan, before turning to Mike. ‘I’m sure there’ll be something you can help with. Even if it’s just clearing some of the jungle out there. You must know a lot about the area? Anything we need to be aware of?’
‘I’d say you might find it a bit strange at first, being townies an’ all. Just practical things like there’s no Sunday opening or late night shopping here, so you’ll need to plan ahead for things.’ Mike spotted Dan’s mobile phone on the counter. ‘And you can forget a mobile signal unless you’re in Invergill.’
‘Really?’ Dan raised an eyebrow.
‘Aye. But you know, the glen is a beautiful place to live. I’m sure you’ll both be spellbound before long.’
‘Well, you wanted peace and quiet, Dan.’ Esther laughed. ‘It’s a good job they’re connecting the land line just after the Easter weekend – it’s only a little over a week to wait. We’ll have to go to Invergill tomorrow and let everyone know we’ve arrived safely.’
The lights sputtered again, then finally went out, plunging the kitchen into a murky half-light.
‘Bloody electrics. Stay where you are, there’s a torch in the car and I think I know where the fuse-board is.’ Dan’s chair scraped on the stone flags as he pushed it back.
Mike struck a match to light the gloom and, as he did, Esther saw the kitchen scene reflected at her in his amber eyes. The flame licked the air between them and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. Her reflection danced in the flame and then, as the match died, it was gone. They sat for a few moments in silence and Esther was relieved when Mike spoke.
‘I’ll go after him. Stay here, we’ll soon have it fixed.’ Mike stood up, leaving Esther alone in the darkness.
After a few minutes, the power came back on and Esther heard a car start and pull away. She assumed it was Mike leaving and waited for Dan to come back in, but when there was no sign of him, she wandered out onto the platform. Their silver Toyota was still at the bottom of the lane where Dan had parked it, and she couldn’t see either man. She stood for a moment, annoyed that Dan would be so thoughtless as to leave her alone when everything was so unfamiliar to her. She spotted a bench further down the platform and sat on it, taking in her surroundings.
She shivered. The evening air had a bite to it as the inky dark consumed the twilight haze over the mountains. As the day became night, the shadows from the trees reached out towards her, fingers of darkness poised, as though ready to snatch her away. The moon poked out from behind a cloud and the light of the sun dipped, the transformation from day to night happening as Esther absorbed the landscape. She looked up at the sky, trying to see patterns in the stars, looking for things she could recognise. The glen, remote and brooding as the gods, felt different to when she’d arrived. A pair of bats flitted across the station to the mountain, leathery wings beating through the night. An owl screeched to announce its presence and she tried to ignore the rustling bushes behind the opposite platform. The night brought with it an energy that had been absent during the day. How would she ever settle? It all felt so ominous.
Sophie would have loved it here. A wave of grief hit Esther in the guts, threatening to rise up into her chest and break out through her ribs. She quickly pulled her thoughts back and placed them in the lead casket inside her heart. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Sophie. Not now.
She fetched her coat from the car, then went back to sit on the platform, waiting for Dan. She was grateful for the time to think, to be alone, but at the same time she was annoyed that Dan would just go off and leave her, without even saying where he was going or how long he would be. She didn’t want their first night in their new home to be punctuated by a row, but he was making it difficult. She put her hand on her stomach, taking comfort from the fact that she wasn’t alone.
Caught up in the romance of becoming a family and the prospect of happy times ahead, she’d purposefully avoided dwelling on the practicalities. Doctors, midwives, hospitals. She’d need a barrage of health services to call on, not only to care for her pregnancy, but for regular adjustments to her prosthetic as her body changed. Dan, usually so methodical and orderly, didn’t provide her with any answers to her questions and she worried that they were too remote if something went wrong. There was a recognisable difference in Dan. His mood was lighter, he seemed unperturbed, as though every practicality she placed before him to scrutinise bore no more weight than gossamer.
Now that it was over, she could finally allow herself to admit that she’d been dreading the long journey up here, confined in a small space with him. It was hard to anticipate his mood these last few months, but as their moving day loomed, so his mood seemed to lift. She, on the other hand, had become more anxious – their roles had reversed, but when? What had caused this change in him? And wasn’t this what she’d wanted all along? It seemed churlish to be complaining. He’d been light-hearted and affectionate on the journey up, like he’d been in the early days of their relationship when everything was new and there was still lots to discover about each other. His actions seemed to her to be much freer than she was used to from him. She knew she should be pleased, but the thought burrowed into her and gnawed away from inside: if only he hadn’t lied to her for so long. If only she didn’t feel like he was building a roof over them while she was still laying the foundations. They were moving at two different speeds and she was lagging behind. Even so, she felt optimistic that this new phase in their lives would lead to a closer and deeper emotional connection with him, and that this time it would truly be them against the world, just as he had promised many
times before.
On days like today, it would be easy to forget the sadness and hurt that had permeated their marriage for the last year. She thought of stark days and savage nights when their bed was a shipwreck and they’d clung to the sides, praying for rescue. Although she was trying to put the past behind them, the icy touch of those memories stabbed at her heart, and she knew that while she had forgiven him, it would be a long time before she could forget.
Eric didn’t help matters. The more time and distance between Dan and his father the better, as far as Esther was concerned. She hoped Eric’s influence would recede and she’d finally learn who her husband was, away from Eric’s mutterings and curses of eternal damnation for anyone who fell short of his impossible standards. It was only two days since they’d said goodbye to him, but she questioned whether the reason for Dan’s brighter disposition was an unspoken recognition that he didn’t have to live up to his father’s expectations on a daily basis.
When they’d said goodbye, Eric had clutched at Esther’s hand. Looking deeply into her eyes, as though trying to gauge the purity of her soul, he’d leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Run, Rabbit. Run.” His fingers, claw-like with arthritis, and his warm breath dank with age, made her want to recoil as he pressed on. “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial.”
She shook her head at the thought. Having long since stopped trying to decipher Eric’s ramblings, she now wondered what he’d meant. Maybe she was being unfair and he was doing his best. After all, who has all the answers? Not her own father, certainly. The only answers he’d ever sought were at the bottom of a bottle. Patrick had occupied her thoughts more and more. She had questions only he could provide the answers to, but did she want to ask them?
Sophie would have known what to do. Another sucker-punch.
If she thought hard enough, she could hear Sophie’s gravelly laugh and her terrible singing. She’d loved how Sophie took advantage of her ditzy manner and appearance to wrong foot people who could only think in stereotypes. She knew everything about Sophie – even how she’d been named after a character in a book. Sophie had been there for all of Esther’s milestones. Graduating from university, meeting Dan, renovating their first house, moving to the waterside apartment, getting married. When she was pregnant the first time, it was Sophie Esther had told first. And Sophie had been with her when she started to miscarry.
Esther had become adept at compartmentalising her feelings, but too late, she realised she’d let one too many recollections slip past her. She tried to push the memories away, but they were taking shape, forcing her to replay the years of friendship. Random images flashed before her.
Sophie in a red dress, laughing.
Shots of vodka lined up on a bar.
The allergy rash on Sophie’s neck from eating shellfish.
Sophie dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween.
Dan’s face as he took the phone call.
Before she could stop it, the memories cornered her, baying like a pack of wild dogs for her attention.
“Sit down,” he’d said. “There’s been an accident.”
Over the last year, she’d grown a defensive crust over her grief, but underneath the scab, the wound was raw and inflamed. She couldn’t stop the images and snatches of remembered conversation coming at her and she crossed her arms across her stomach, doubling over to brace herself against the pain that burst out from her heart into every cell in her body.
‘It’s Sophie. She’s dead.’
Esther had heard the words and knew what they meant, knew the enormity of them, knew that Dan would never joke or get something so important so wrong, and yet she laughed at the absurdity of it. He made no sense. For the first time in their life together, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Sophie was on holiday in Rhodes, she’d had a text from her just that morning.
‘Darling, I know this is hard to hear.’ He knelt down beside her and took her hands in his. ‘She was diving off a boat and hit her head on some rocks below the surface. They said it was instant.’
Esther remembered how time had slowed and how, when she’d looked at Dan, it was as though she was seeing him through cellophane. She could picture the cerulean sky, the golden sands, and the ant-like holiday makers against the backdrop of bland hotels, it was as though she’d been transported into a child’s painting. It would have been idyllic were it not for the water blooming red, the shouts of the other people on the boat, the frantic efforts to save her friend.
Her thoughts tumbled over each other. What happens when a person stops living? What’s left behind? There was evidence of Sophie everywhere. The photograph of her and Esther taken at a fancy-dress party. The DVD Esther had been meaning to return. Books they’d bought for each other. A touch of her hand, a shared look. And that was only a tiny fraction of all the thousands of points where their lives intersected, there were hundreds of thousands more. No-one would ever know all the things they’d said to each other, all the things they’d done together, all the things they didn’t need to say. Most of it would be lost, distilled down to a few memories, postcards and photographs, and when Esther died, the remaining fragments would be lost forever. Her thoughts continued to pitch and spill.
‘But who’s going to feed her chickens?’
Dan had looked at her as though he’d never seen her before. And that was how she’d felt then – like she had to be a whole new person, a person who didn’t have Sophie to prop her up.
And that was how she’d been since, moving through her life, getting on with things and making decisions she wasn’t sure she’d have made if Sophie had still been alive. Like this move. Like staying with Dan and trying for another baby. It would have been easier to leave, but she was afraid. She knew that the move would herald a new chapter in their lives and there were so many things to look forward to. None of that mattered because when she was alone, she couldn’t block out the voice telling her it was no use running away from her grief. It was bound to catch up with her.
The quietness of their new home thundered in her ears. In Bristol, she could hear the cars, buses, and sirens, even though their apartment looked over the river. She’d often hear drunken laughter as people walked the path along the riverfront on their way to that week’s trendy opening. Bristol also harboured memories of Sophie everywhere Esther looked.
Her heart tightened and she looked at her watch. Dan had been gone for nearly an hour. She pulled her mobile out of her coat pocket. Still no signal, just as Mike had predicted. He was an odd one, she thought. Turning up like that, as though he had some prior claim. Esther was unsettled by the encounter and yet Mike had been pleasant in the brief exchange they’d had. There was something about his eyes that unnerved her. Maybe it was their unusual colour, or the intensity with which he looked at her.
She scrolled through her address book, deleting the numbers she’d never need again: hairdressers, doctors, dentists. All manner of people whose job it was to keep her well and make her beautiful. Sophie’s name was next on the list. Esther’s thumb hovered over the delete key. She pressed it, then when the confirmation message popped up, she pressed cancel. Esther was not ready to let go just yet. She stared at the phone, summoning all her will not to cry. She quickly scrolled to voicemail. Two saved messages, both from Sophie. Esther pressed ‘play’ and waited for the dial tone which didn’t come.
The noise of a car approaching down the bumpy track broke her reverie. She put the phone back in her pocket and wiped her nose on the cuff of her coat sleeve, feeling the scratchy tweed rubbing against her skin. A Land Rover pulled up and Dan spilled out of the passenger side, bent double with laughter. Mike got out of the driver’s side, also laughing, and clapped Dan on the back. The two men straightened up and opened the rear door of the vehicle. Mike lifted out a piece of machinery and Dan reached into the back, pulling out two large petrol cans.
‘What’s so fu
nny?’
Both men stopped as though the sound of her voice had brought them back to reality.
‘I was just telling Dan some stories about my Mammy. Killing me with kindness one minute and smacking my legs with a wooden spoon in the next breath. I asked her once whether God was her invisible friend and got the walloping of my life for it.’ Mike spoke with a fondness at the memory.
It didn’t seem that funny to Esther, particularly considering Dan’s religious upbringing, and she didn’t know how to respond.
Dan saved her. ‘Mike has lent us a generator so we have a back-up power source. I’ll set it up tomorrow, then on Monday, when the builders come, I’ll get them to check the electrics over.’
Mike gestured to the two petrol cans. ‘These’ll see you right for a couple of days if the power goes off again. I’ll be off now and leave you fine people to your bed. You’ll no doubt be tired after your long journey.’
A look passed between the two men that she couldn’t interpret.
‘If you need anything, my croft is about two miles north of here. There’s a sign for the reservoir, go past that and I’m the next turning on the left, about half a mile further on.’ Mike leaned forward to kiss Esther on the cheek.
Surprised, she unconsciously put her hand to her face, as the air cooled her skin where his lips had brushed. Esther watched the Land Rover reverse and turn away from Rosgill. She decided to wait until morning to ask Dan more about Mike. She was too tired to think straight and the nagging pain in her leg was becoming difficult to ignore.
*
The lights in the cottage went off one by one: first the kitchen, then the hallway, then the bathroom, landing and, a long while after, the bedroom. Darkness enveloped the building once more and a breeze lifted leaves and tossed them along the platform. The station canopy groaned, relaying news of their arrival through the shifting air. The stream took up the message, embellishing the details, and the trees, shrouded in the first kiss of mist, sighed.