by Bee Lewis
‘Jesus!’
She sat up, guilty and embarrassed, her heart pounding. Water splashed over the side of the bath onto the tiles and the cat jumped up onto the windowsill, sending a bottle of shampoo clattering to the floor.
‘Bloody stupid animal. You’re walking a tightrope there.’
Her fingers had started to wrinkle and she speculated how she might look when she was old. She was at Rosgill and it was summer time. In what might be a rare break from seeing to guests, she imagined two large cane chairs on the platform with her pouring tea from a china pot. She knew it was a cliché, but she allowed the daydream to continue to take shape, comforted by the thought that she would eventually feel settled here and that she’d think of Rosgill as home. She pictured herself reading out snippets from the paper to Mike. Mike! What was she thinking? She laughed at the absurdity of it. She’d meant Dan, of course she’d meant Dan.
‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll give you a hand to get out of the bath,’ Dan called up from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Seems like bath time is over, Puss.’
When Esther made her way back downstairs, the two men were in the sitting room, poring over plans for the buildings. She felt a rush of affection for Dan, seeing him with his head bowed over the various pieces of paper, deep in conversation. Having Mike around broke up the days. She made her way over to Dan and kissed the top of his head, ignoring his almost imperceptible flinch at her touch. She looked across at Mike. He’d noticed.
‘What’cha doon?’ she asked.
‘Just looking through these plans to see if there is something we can easily make a start on.’ Dan didn’t look up as he spoke.
‘And is there?’ A note of irritation crept into her question. Was he trying to keep her at arm’s length on purpose, or did he just not realise how off-hand his manner was?
Mike answered. ‘There’s plenty of painting we can be getting on with. Fancy giving us a hand?’
‘Do we have all the stuff we need?’ She remembered Dan pointing out a tarpaulin covering timber and bags of sand on the first night they’d arrived, but couldn’t remember seeing anything like paint or brushes.
‘Mikey has brought some brushes and some left-over paint, mostly white, so we can use it as undercoat at least. There’s plenty of sanding to be done as well.’
Has he now? Well, how utterly thoughtful of him.
‘Okay. Where d’you want me to start?’ She relished the thought of doing something other than sitting around and waiting. The days were dragging and she had too much time to think. It wasn’t helpful or productive to brood.
‘We could have a go at undercoating the old ticket hall, if you like? That is, if you and your gammy leg are up to it.’
There it was again, that note of teasing in Mike’s voice. Her instinct was to be outraged at his irreverence, but she laughed in spite of herself. His attitude towards her was refreshing.
‘We are.’ She stuck out her tongue at him.
‘Come on, then. Let’s get the stuff out of the Land Rover.’
‘Oh, Dan! Maybe Mike can tow our car back with the Land Rover? Mike, you must have passed it on the way here?’
‘I told you, there’s no spare.’ A muscle twitched at the side of Dan’s mouth.
‘Yes. Sorry. I forgot.’
Although there had been nothing in Dan’s tone to suggest it, she couldn’t help but feel she’d been rebuked and her cheeks smarted with the unfairness of it. She was only trying to help, to show him she was capable of solving problems too.
Dan held his hand out to her. ‘I know. And it was a good idea.’
She allowed herself a small smile. He was in such an odd mood – or maybe she was reading too much into what he said. Mike went to fetch the paint from the Land Rover. She squeezed his hand and waited for him to reach for the hand gel. When he didn’t, she felt relieved. Perhaps she had nothing to worry about after all.
Esther and Mike worked side-by-side in the old ticket hall. She was glad she’d managed to clean beforehand, it made the preparation easier. Mike had brought sheets of sandpaper with him for the woodwork and busied himself sanding down the door frame. Meanwhile, Esther was concentrating on brushing the walls to get rid of the flaking paint. It wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought and once she’d applied some filler, the walls would be ready for paint – no need for expensive and messy plasterers. The profit from the sale of the flat would be eaten up by the renovations and borrowing from the bank was a distinct possibility.
They worked in silence and it made her feel uncomfortable. Her stomach lurched and her tongue turned to dough in her mouth when she tried to strike up a conversation with him. Mike perplexed her, invading their lives with his wild tales and easy manner. Dan was so different here. Was it this place? Or was it Mike’s influence? She couldn’t push away the gnawing suspicion that was taking hold.
She wished she’d thought of bringing the radio from the kitchen with her and was half-way to suggesting going back for it when Mike yelped in pain.
‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’
‘Feckin splinter, that’s what. Ow!’
‘Here. Let me see.’ She took his hand in hers, feeling the warm, dry skin. His fingernails were blunt and square and his skin softer than she expected. There was strength behind that grip matching his size, and she imagined he’d have a powerful handshake, firm and uncompromising.
The splinter was sticking out, just proud of the pad of his thumb. She couldn’t remember where the tweezers were, or even if she’d unpacked them. Unthinking, she put his hand to her mouth, in an attempt to catch the tail of the splinter between her teeth. With a little manoeuvring, she tugged it free. She held the splinter up for them both to examine and although it was quite large, the damage was superficial.
‘Oh! I’m sorry – I wasn’t thinking,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t very hygienic, was it?’ Her laugh wobbled in her throat.
‘Ah, don’t you worry about that. I’ve dealt with worse. Besides, if I need any anti-septic, I can always ask Dan, right?’
He winked at her and it felt good to share the moment with him, a small joke that was theirs alone.
‘Why does he do that?’
‘The hand-gel? Dunno. I used to worry about it, but he’s better than he was.’
Esther didn’t tell Mike how, not long after she’d miscarried, she’d seen Dan washing his mouth out with the gel. It was the first real sign of mental distress she remembered him showing and her attitude towards him softened a little as a result. How bad must he have felt to do that?
‘You’re not married then?’ Her curiosity got the better of her and she cringed inwardly at how inane her question seemed.
Mike chuckled to himself and continued sanding. ‘Me? No. I’m not the marrying kind.’
‘And what is the “marrying kind”?’ she asked.
He stopped sanding and as he looked at her she thought she saw a hint of a challenge aimed in her direction.
‘Someone like you, I guess. Someone who wants to settle down, have children, build a life with someone, grow old together. That’s not me.’
‘And yet you think it’s me?’
‘Well, you’re married, aren’t you? And pregnant. And you’ve just relocated here with your husband.’
She couldn’t tell if he was still teasing her. There’s more to me than that, though. She put the wire brush down. She didn’t want him to think of her that way.
He took a step towards her. ‘I know,’ he said.
She shook her head slightly, looking everywhere but at him. Had she voiced her thought?
‘I know.’ He reached out and touched her hair, feeling it between his fingers.
She met his gaze, mesmerised by his eyes, feeling as though she was falling inwards into herself.
Her body trembled as he str
oked her hair, smoothing it down, like he was quieting a nervous animal. His hand brushed her ear and she was lost to the sounds of the forest, the birds clamouring for her attention, the trees whispering their secrets. The forest smelled like desire, earthy, raw and musky. She closed her eyes and he followed the contours of her eye socket with his thumb. The forest floor had been transformed by a carpet of daffodils, their scent rising into the air, soapy and fresh. Sunlight dappled the clearing and there was another smell, of wood smoke and leather, deeper and more intense than in her dreams.
‘Let me show you,’ he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath caressing the landscape of her neck.
She wanted him to kiss her. She pictured his mouth on hers, the peaty taste of his breath rooting her to the spot. If she allowed him to kiss her, he’d take her heart and turn it into fire and she was afraid. She opened her eyes. The forest was gone and she was back in the ticket office. Mike was sanding the door frame. He saw her looking at him and stopped, a quizzical expression on his face.
‘Everything okay there, Esther? You look a bit pale. Want to come and sit down?’
‘Did we . . . did you . . . ?’ She didn’t know what was real. What had just happened? She sat down on the bench seat.
‘What? Did we what?’ He squatted down in front of her. ‘Tell me.’
She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud.
‘I just feel a little faint.’
‘Okay, I’ll go and make a cup of tea – hot and strong, with a sugar in. Then maybe we can go and get some fresh air once you are feeling a bit better.’
Esther watched him open the door and saw his shape ease past the etched windows. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. What was it about him that caused so much unease in her? Dan would say she was hormonal – and he was probably right. Or, and she scarcely dared give light to the thought, maybe it really was all in her mind. If he was giving her signals, then she ought to be relieved that there was no foundation to her concerns about his closeness with Dan. She had no idea what on earth she was thinking, but wished more than ever before that she could talk to Sophie.
She pulled out her mobile phone and dialled Sophie’s number. As before, the call dropped out straight away. She was about to put the phone back in her pocket when she decided to try something else. Tapping out the words on the keypad, she sent Sophie a text message:
To: Soph
I need you. Come back xx
‘Still no signal?’ Mike set the mug of tea down beside her.
Esther shook her head.
‘There won’t be, the mountains block it. If you want to call someone, you’re welcome up at my place.’
‘Thanks, but it’s okay. I was just checking something.’
He nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments.
‘Tell me about your leg.’
‘What? What do you mean?’ Her heart sank. He was a gore tourist – a stump-fiend after all.
‘Tell me something you think I’ll find interesting.’
‘And if I don’t want to talk about it?’ She fidgeted, unnerved by his calm insistence.
‘But you do. You want me to understand you, but I can’t if I don’t know. So tell me something about your leg.’
She thought about what he’d said. She did want him to understand her, but she’d never expressed those thoughts. It was ridiculous, Dan was emotionally immune and Mike seemed hyper-intuitive, like he could read her mind. She knew she’d have to be careful around him, she didn’t want him picking up on the confusion he caused inside her.
‘My foot was crushed when I was—’
‘No. Don’t tell me the medical details. Don’t tell me about the accident. Tell me something else.’
‘No-one ever asks me that. I don’t know what to say.’
‘I’m asking. And I’m interested in the answer.’
Esther breathed in deeply, then exhaled and it was as though the answer to the question found release with her outward breath.
‘I don’t know how to explain it. It’s all to do with touch. When you touch your – oh, I don’t know, let’s say arm – the skin on your hand feels the skin on your arm, and in turn the skin on your arm feels the pressure from your hand. Touch is a two-way thing.’ She paused, trying to assess whether he was following her or not.
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Warming to her theme, she continued, ‘I can touch the metal shaft of my leg and feel the metal with my fingertips. It’s cold and hard and unyielding – just what I’d expect. I don’t hate the metal for being metal, but I hate that the metal can’t feel my fingertips, the gentle pressure, the thinnest film of grease or perspiration from the pads of my fingers.’
She looked down at the floor. Mike stayed silent.
‘It extends beyond touch, of course.’
‘Explain?’
‘It’s about connection. I stand on the ground, whatever the surface, but I will only ever feel it through one foot. It’s easier to show you what I mean.’ She stood and beckoned him to follow her.
When they arrived back at the cottage, Esther pulled out a chair from around the kitchen table and motioned for him to sit down.
‘Take off one of your boots.’
Mike crossed his right foot over his left thigh and unlaced his boot, applying pressure to pull it over his heel. ‘Now what?’
She looked at his sock and stifled a giggle. Rainbow-striped socks were the last thing she expected to see. She’d had him down as more of a navy sock guy.
‘Colourful, eh?’ He grinned at her. ‘I’m full of surprises.’
I’m sure.
‘Okay, so now I want you to stand up, and go upstairs.’
She watched his retreating back as he climbed the wooden stairs. When he got to the top, he turned to face her.
‘I get it, I think. Having a prosthetic leg is like going around with just one shoe on? Like your steps are muffled and there’s no connection with the ground?’
‘Exactly!’ She knew he’d understand. ‘Now, take your sock off too.’
He did as he was asked, then walked down the stairs towards her.
‘You see, I can’t do that – well, not regularly. I have to wear something on my left foot so that the weight is evenly balanced, or it puts too much pressure onto the prosthetic and everything pops out of line.’
‘Touch is a two-way thing. I get it.’
She pictured the vision Dan and Mike entwined in the forest, and shivered. ‘Yes,’ she said. And the moment was lost.
‘Ready for that walk? Let’s go.’ He picked her jacket off the peg and held it out for her.
The peaty air clung to them as they wreathed their way off the end of the platform, following the track bed up the glen. Mike hadn’t asked Dan if he’d wanted to join them and Esther felt a mixture of relief that she wouldn’t have to try to second guess his mood, and disquiet that it was just her and Mike.
She found the terrain hard going. Shorter than Mike, she had to increase the frequency of her strides to keep up. He seemed to understand without her saying anything and slowed his stride to compensate. Even after five years together, she still had to remind Dan to slow down for her.
‘I don’t think I’d be able to find my way round, even without the fog. All these pine trees look the same.’ She indicated to the trees around them.
‘Spruce.’ Mike replied.
‘What?’
‘They’re spruce – Sitka Spruce in fact – not pines. Well, okay, some of them are pines, but these here, the ones that form the very dense canopy, they’re Sitka Spruce. They grow tall, straight and provide protection for deer and other smaller animals.’ He pulled one of the lower hanging branches downwards for her to inspect. ‘You can always tell the difference between pin
e and spruce by looking at the needles, these are flat on one side, with a woody tip. Spruce.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I take work where I can get it and there’s plenty of forestry work around. Planted a few thousand of these in my time up here, along with Larch where the soil is a bit poorer on the southern slopes of the mountains. Felled quite a few too.’
‘See, I’d never have known that.’ She knew she ought to take more interest in her surroundings. It was the kind of thing guests would expect them to know.
‘This one here, this is a Scots Pine. It’s a different shape altogether from the spruce. See how the branches curl outwards?’
Now he’d pointed it out, she could see the difference. And felt a little stupid for not making the distinction herself.
The fog pervaded every movement, constant, clinging, ethereal. The atmosphere in the cottage was suffocating as Esther and Dan skirted around each other’s mood, but being outside was almost worse. She felt light-headed, disoriented, struggling to breath in the vapour-clogged air. Stumbling over the uneven ground, she tensed up, ready to protect herself if she fell.
Mike offered her his hand, but she declined. If she couldn’t limit the amount of time she spent with Mike, then she’d at least limit the amount of physical contact. Besides, holding hands would throw her further off-balance. Dan wouldn’t have understood, would have seen it as some kind of slight or distancing between them, but Mike accepted her refusal without recrimination.
They walked for about twenty minutes, in silence. Esther listened to the sound of their feet splintering through the gorse, reminding her of the sounds the hunter made in her dreams. It was the only sound she could hear. She thought back to the first morning, sitting on the platform bench.
‘Mike? Is it always so quiet here? I haven’t heard any birds since the fog came down. Everything is so still, like it’s been suspended in time almost. And yes, I know how stupid that sounds.’
He chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he did so. ‘There are plenty of creatures around here. The fog’s just made them nervous is all. You’ll see and hear plenty when it lifts. It’s winter still. Some of the birds are away to warmer parts and some of the animals are hibernating.’