by Bee Lewis
Far above her, the constellations pulsed to each other and Orion smiled in the knowledge that the hunt had begun.
*
‘Essie, Es? Wake up.’ Dan shook her, gently at first, then harder when she didn’t rouse.
‘He’s coming, he’s coming!’
‘Esther! Wake up!’
She opened her eyes and screamed, seeing Dan looming over her.
‘Shh. Shh. It’s okay.’ Dan took her in his arms, her rabbit-heart fluttering against his. ‘What was all that about?’
Esther closed her eyes, trying to picture her dream. The scene was in her grasp, but when she tried to articulate it, the images turned into eels and slipped away from her. With his help, she slowed her breathing and relaxed against him.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She sobbed into his chest.
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It was just a bad dream. Come on, let’s try to go back to sleep. Snuggle in.’ Dan stroked her hair and laid her back onto the pillow before getting back into bed himself. He curved his body round her. She lay awake listening to his breathing until it deepened and sleep once again took her husband. She knew it was just a dream, but she could smell the forest clinging to her skin and hair, and sleep would be a long time coming.
When daylight finally came, Dan brought her a tray in bed. Tea, toast and cereal. The dark circles under his eyes matched hers.
‘How are you feeling now?’ He sat on the edge of the bed, twisting his wedding ring round on his finger.
‘I’m okay. A bit tired, but okay. I might just take it a bit easier today.’
He visibly relaxed. ‘I thought I was going to have to argue with you about getting some rest. Stay there as long as you need to.’ He walked over to the window, opening the shutters. ‘We probably won’t see the builders today. The fog is back – thicker than yesterday even. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Welcome to Scotland.’ Esther raised her mug in a mock toast. ‘You know, I don’t mind if the builders don’t come today. I’m not really up to it.’
He nodded. ‘I think you’re right. Any idea what caused the nightmare? Careful, you’ll get jam on the duvet.’
It was probably something to do with the phone call from my dead friend.
She shook her head and laid the tray aside on the bed, the marshmallow expanse of duvet dimpling under the weight.
He came and sat by her side and took her hand. ‘Essie, is everything okay? Are we okay? You just seem a bit . . . off.’
She paused, deciding whether now was the right time to voice her worries, or whether she risked putting a crease in their progress.
‘I think it’s all been more of a strain than I thought. The last six months . . . well, the last year really, have been hard. This is a big move for us.’ She watched the shadow pass over his face, knowing he was thinking about the part he’d played in past events. She continued, trying to reassure him, trying to stave off another round of gunfire.
‘I’m not complaining, where you go, I go. It’s just a lot of change all at once. And we’ve been through such a lot already.’
‘Moving was our best option.’
She nodded. ‘I understand that. I want us to make a go of this. We’re still feeling the ripples of the last twelve months. It’ll take time, that’s all. Are you sure it’s what you want – me and the baby?’
His expression softened as he reached out to touch her cheek. ‘All I ever wanted was a family of my own. Having children together is the best thing that could happen. I just didn’t want to go through another round of IVF. We couldn’t afford it, even before the redundancy. Then, when you fell pregnant anyway, I was scared about the timing, knowing we were coming up here to start again.’
Her heart leapt, nudging away the depth-charge of anxiety. This was progress; he rarely mentioned his redundancy. It was his Achilles heel in the same way that the miscarriage was hers. She held her breath, scared to break the spell as she waited for him to continue, but the moment was over.
‘There’s plenty of food in the cupboards, what with the stuff we brought and Mikey’s welcome gift, so we won’t need to worry about supplies for a good few days yet. We may as well just hunker down and get used to the place.’
‘Mikey, is it?’
Dan stood up and turned back towards the window. ‘It just seems to suit him, is all. He’s a friendly guy.’
Esther smiled. Despite her initial misgivings, Dan seemed to be quite taken with Mike and she thought it would do him good to have someone other than her to talk to.
‘Did he say if he is single?’
‘Who? Mikey?’
‘Yes. I thought if he had a partner it might be nice to get to know her . . . or him.’
Dan scowled. ‘He didn’t say.’
‘And of course, you didn’t think to ask.’ She sighed. ‘Dan, if we are going to settle here, we need to really put roots down and be part of this community. That means making friends with people, no matter how uncomfortable that feels.’ And you have to realise not everyone shares your views on love and marriage.
She patted the bed beside her, signalling him to come and sit down next to her. She knew he found social situations difficult, but it also seemed to her as though he didn’t try. She wondered how much was Dan himself and how much was Eric’s influence.
‘Are you finished with that?’ Dan picked up the tray and took it downstairs, ignoring her invitation.
She lay back, cursing Eric. As if it wasn’t difficult enough to get Dan to try new things, she had to contend with the indoctrination that ran though his core. Her husband was an enigma. For a man of science, he held some very contrary views, particularly where the line between science and nature blurred.
There were though, some distinct benefits in moving from Bristol. Contact with Eric would now be much more limited and within her control. He didn’t fit her idea of what it meant be to be a Christian man, with his constant use of the Old Testament to back up his narrow-mindedness. She hoped Dan would mellow and be more accepting of others now that he was out from under Eric’s spell. She was aware she had no yardstick to measure Dan and Eric’s relationship by and her thoughts inevitably turned to her own father. Her memories of him were fading, and she could only remember his face from the few photographs she kept in her diary. Patrick tall, imposing, dwarfing Anthea in their wedding photos. They looked young, carefree. When did things change?
Her last memory of him always began the same way, with the bald noise of the burst tyre, then the juddering of the brakes as her father pumped his foot hard on them. The silence of slow motion as the world outside the car sped up while time stopped for the occupants. The swerving motion slamming her body across the back seat and into the door, then back across the seat, her 8-year-old body ricocheting into the other door before crumpling into the foot well. The pain lighting every nerve in her arms and legs and back. The washing-machine tumble as the car rolled onto its roof, then back over again – the time lines inside and outside of the car converging and colliding at a singularity. The smell of petrol and whisky and blood. She remembered how hard it was to stay awake, how she’d wanted to sleep but the man in the blue uniform kept waking her up, asking her name and flashing a light into her eyes. She remembered wondering whose leg it was that was sticking up from the floor of the car, its bloody, twisted foot folded back on itself. Her scream as she realised the leg belonged to her – the sound that still punctuated her nightmares. Then only darkness and silence.
She’d become very efficient at blocking out the endurance test that was the weeks she spent in hospital. Three operations, physiotherapy that set every nerve on fire, the endless round of faceless doctors and nurses, prodding, poking, analysing and measuring every secretion. That summer had been very hot. Indolent days and sweat-soaked nights. The unfairness of being stuck inside when everyone else was swimming and
playing was branded onto her memory. But the worst of it was going back to school, some six months after the accident, only to find that her friends had formed new groups, and that being in a wheelchair meant she was different. And different was not cool.
Esther endured the taunts in the playground. Her classmates were curious at first about her leg, but then the whispering started and it was everywhere she went. Her mother told her to ignore the gossip – that it would go away. But she could still feel the burning shame firing inside her every Saturday morning, after the ritual cleansing of the house with bleach, when Anthea went out for a few hours and Mrs Gray came to sit with Esther. Her father had disappeared. All traces of him had been erased from their lives.
Anthea never said she was visiting Patrick in jail, but Esther knew. When the visits stopped, Esther wondered what had happened to her father, but her mother would never tell her. Soon, the only sign he’d ever existed was Esther’s broken body.
Finding him was the only way she’d ever know the answers to all the questions she had. She knew it was a combination of things. Her own circle was getting smaller. Sophie was gone, Anthea lived in America with her new husband. All she had now was Dan, and the baby. Now that she was going to be a parent, she saw things differently. She wondered where he was, whether he thought about her, whether he felt any guilt at maiming his child. Esther couldn’t imagine how she’d survive hurting her own child. Was it the same for him? Or did he not think about her at all, except for Christmas and birthdays – and maybe not even then.
She wanted something better for her own child, no matter the personal cost to herself. Her child would have two parents and a stable home. Resting her hand on her stomach, she let the doubt trickle into her mind. What if she lost this baby too? Or maybe she wasn’t pregnant at all? Maybe she’d imagined it. The worst of the morning sickness had passed and she had very little sign of a bump. It could be weeks yet until she felt the baby move. There were few physical signs she could pinpoint to give her reassurance. Her breasts were a little more tender than normal. Were they getting bigger? She smoothed the flat of her hand over them, enjoying the sensation. She couldn’t be sure.
Aware that she was spooking herself and even though she already knew the answer, she swung herself out of bed and shuffled down it until she could reach the chest of drawers. She picked up her pink leather jewellery box. It had been a present from her mother; a replacement for the jewellery box she’d had as a child, the one with the ballerina in. The one that had been smashed in another argument between her parents. She opened the box and lifted out the ring tray, smiling as the ballerina pirouetted to the tinkling tune. Nestling into the tangle of necklaces and bracelets at the bottom, she pulled out the pregnancy test wand and looked at it again. The reassuring blue line plain to see, she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks.
She put the test back and picked up the ring tray. As she did so, her wedding ring, a simple polished D-shaped band, blinked back at her. She picked it up and looked at it, holding it up to the light. The inscription inside showed some signs of wear. ‘You. Me. Us.’ She slipped the hoop of gold onto her ring finger, the metal cold against her skin. She splayed her hand out, looking at the ring, trying to shake the dog-with-a-new-collar feeling.
It had been nearly a year since she’d last worn it.
In all that time, Dan had never said anything, but she knew he’d noticed. Perhaps it was time to get used to wearing it again.
*
While Dan was in the shower, Esther decided to explore the other side of the station. She sat on the platform edge, then dropped down onto the old track-bed, taking care to test the ground. The rails and sleepers were long-gone and the track-bed was pitted where the sleepers had lain for so long. A tangle of weeds and thistles snapped at her ankles as she picked her way through. She thought of her nightmare and the ease with which she’d fled through the forest. Esther didn’t believe in feeling sorry for herself. She had to make the best of what she’d been given, but she allowed herself to acknowledge that sometimes it would be nice to feel the ground with both feet again.
She hauled herself up onto the opposite platform and looked back at the station. The fog obscured much of the detail of the building, but she could make out enough of its form to gauge its presence. The creaking dagger-boards were not as noticeable now that the fog had smothered the breeze. Turning away from the station, she surveyed the squat building in front of her. Originally part waiting room, part store room, Dan wanted this to be their bedroom and nursery, away from the main house for privacy. It was the first thing the builders were meant to start on, somewhere they could escape from the noise and the dust in the main house.
Esther opened the door into the waiting room, a mirror image of the one on the other platform. The windows faced north and weak daylight filtered through the filmy deposits left on the glass. She rubbed a spot clean on the low wooden bench, wiping her hands on her jeans and sat, mentally furnishing the room. The Moses basket could go under the window, next to her side of the bed. They’d paint the panelling in this room, white probably, to reflect more light. With her hands folded in her lap, she was content to sit and think. Although the terror of miscarrying was a constant companion, every so often she allowed herself to think about what the future might look like. She wondered whether the baby would be a girl or a boy and whether it was unlucky to allow such thoughts to form.
She pictured Dan’s reaction if he could see inside her head and smiled, knowing he’d have a clever answer about her superstitions. After her nightmare last night, he’d been so tender and careful with her, just like he was when they’d first met. Now she was a little more comfortable in their new surroundings, she realised that it was just as much her responsibility to put things right as his. It was easier in many ways to stay angry with him, as it allowed her to avoid all the things she wanted to ask. She didn’t want this baby to feel her anger, or hurt, or sorrow, and resolved to break the routine. Esther knew she had to forgive him, had to find a way. Perhaps she should start attending church with him again, cementing her faith with his. Showing her faith in him, in them as a couple. It would be Easter in a few days, the symbolic start of new beginnings. She’d suggest it to him later.
The door opened a little wider, hinges screaking. Major Tom nosed his way in and trotted over, jumping up on the seat beside her. She tried the handle of the connecting door to the store room, expecting it to be locked, but it opened as she pushed against it. The room was gloomier than the other, with fewer windows. Racks of shelving covered one wall, eating into the floor space. Dan wanted to partition this room, making an en-suite for them and a nursery for the baby. Shooing the cat away, she closed the door between the two rooms and, with one final look around, stepped back onto the platform. The cat ran off into the fog.
Esther climbed up onto the main platform, thinking that she’d be grateful when the builders came so they could start on the wooden bridge Dan had drawn up plans for to connect both sides of the station. Although they now owned a lot of land, she was beginning to feel fettered by the renovations needed, not to mention the fog which kept them – and her in particular – tethered to Rosgill. She opened the door to the cottage and was surprised to see Mike sitting at the table. Dan had his back to her, hands in the sink. He turned around as she came in.
‘There you are.’ He smiled at her and the effect changed the steel in his eyes to a softer, pewter colour.
‘Hello. Hi, Mike.’ She pulled out a chair and sat opposite him at the table. ‘I didn’t hear your Land Rover? Is that a pot of tea on the go, Dan?’
‘Yep, here.’ Dan held out a steaming mug for her. ‘Mikey has some news.’
‘I walked down, I don’t trust the roads in this fog. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I think we’re going to be cut off for a few days.’
‘Cut off? What do you mean?’ Esther, puzzled, looked from Mike to Dan.
‘There’s be
en an accident further down the glen. A construction lorry going up to the reservoir has come off the Invergill Viaduct and damaged one of the spans.’
‘Oh, no! Was anyone hurt?’
‘No, the driver is okay. He was travelling too fast in this fog and not used to how treacherous that road can be. It’s caused a hell of a mess down there, though. They’re having to get an engineer down from Aberdeen.’
‘Oh, Dan! What a shame you can’t help.’
His back and shoulders tensed and he turned back towards the sink, away from Esther.
‘Yes, what a shame. What a shame I’m an aviation engineer. What a shame there is no call for my speciality and how lucky I am that I was made redundant, just so I could start all over again.’
‘Dan, I—’ She started to speak, but he raised his hand to cut her off, avoiding her eye.
‘I know what you meant, Esther. I know, okay? Come on, Mike. I’ll show you round the rest of the place.’
Mike squeezed her hand in a gesture of solidarity, then picked up his mug and followed Dan. She sat at the table, the rebuke leaving a raw, stinging welt across her heart.
She listened to the two men as they walked from room to room; Dan explaining his vision for each one. Following them would only make Dan angrier, so she remained at the table, feeling excluded in her own home, quietly resentful that Dan had made this all about him, without thinking for one second how much she’d given up. He was so like Eric in that respect. Only ten minutes ago hadn’t she been thinking about making more of an effort? Having Mikey here so often wasn’t helping. He monopolised Dan, and while she was happy that Dan had made a friend, she couldn’t help feeling put out.