by Bee Lewis
‘I don’t think I expected it to be so silent. It’s quite eerie. I feel like my thoughts are too loud even. It’s like the fog is amplifying the silence.’ They continued walking.
‘Are you regretting your decision to come here?’
There it was. Your decision. It wasn’t her decision, it was Dan’s, but to pick Mike up on it seemed both churlish and somehow disloyal to Dan.
‘No, of course not.’ She stopped and faced him. ‘I think I had a romantic view of what it would be like, just Dan and me and the empty space where we could breathe and reconnect.’
‘And the reality disappoints you?’
‘No. It’s just different. Harder. Like I said, the fog is amplifying things. I don’t just mean the silence, but I can’t get away from my thoughts. I’d hoped it might be easier here, but everything is so out of whack.’
When he didn’t pick up her cue, her disappointment felt like a papercut, stinging and deeper than she expected. She wanted to ask him about all of the strange things she’d experienced. Dan would never understand, would never take her seriously, but there was something about Mike that suggested he might be more open to her theories, no matter how outlandish they might seem.
She followed him along the deeply rutted path, concentrating on where she placed her feet, risking only momentary glances at his form. He leaned into the sullen fog as he walked, as though he could push it aside and make a path for them. Mike was much broader than the more athletic Dan. There was something of the mountains about him, something that made Esther think he’d established his place in the landscape. As she considered the thought, the germ of an idea began to root. She’d been fighting everything since she arrived. The cottage, Dan, the fog, the isolation. All of the problems they’d had in Bristol had been packed away in boxes and moved with them. For the first time, she felt she was closer to understanding what she had to do to feel settled.
‘You’re quiet.’ Mike’s voice, butter-soft, coaxed her out of her reflections.
‘I was just thinking about the past.’
‘And how’s that working out for you?’
He knows how to ask the money questions.
‘I think I have to let go. I think – somehow – I need to give myself up to this place, make peace with it. I have to put the past behind me and really mean it. Not hang on to arguments we’ve rehearsed over and over. Not cling on to the words that we’ve used to hurt each other.’
She felt her cheeks warming and knew she must be blushing. It felt odd, but not unpleasant, to be talking to him in such an intimate yet abstract way about her marriage. It was the kind of conversation she used to have with Sophie.
‘We’ve come up here with all of these expectations and yes, I admit, I have been resentful about being uprooted from almost everything I know, everywhere I feel safe. The ghosts that haunted me haven’t gone away, it’s their voices I hear in the silence.’
‘What are they trying to tell you?’ He stopped again, waiting for her to answer.
‘That I need to let go. That if I can’t move beyond what’s happened, I’ll be forever stuck in some sort of loop, clinging onto recriminations.’
‘I’d say listen to those voices. The past belongs where it is. It’s now that matters.’ His gaze held hers. ‘I only want to know about now. About what can happen. About the possibilities.’
He put his hands on her shoulders, fingers squeezing into the quilted material of her jacket, bruising through her skin and biting into her bones.
‘Do you want that, Esther?’
An image of the hunter, standing over her with his spear raised, flashed before her eyes. She imagined launching herself at him, landing blow after blow, fighting him off until he was knocked to the ground and she could escape. She fought the urge to pull away, her feelings of suffocation heightened by Mike’s tight hold on her. She tensed up and he released her.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes. Yes, sorry. Just a bit hot. The baby is generating more heat than a nuclear reactor, I can’t get my temperature right,’ she joked. ‘How far have we walked, do you think?’
Mike frowned. ‘Maybe a mile. Possibly a bit more. Do you want to go back?
‘No.’ The answer surprised her.
They slowed down, moving in unison. Esther chewed the inside of her cheek, while she contemplated the contrariness of her thoughts and actions. She wanted to stay away from Mike, but he was magnetic. She wanted to be close to her husband, but he was always just out of reach. The scent of pine needles and moss laced the dank haze. They walked in silence. Worried that they would get lost in the forest, Esther tried to remember individual trees so that they could find their way back. As she stared into the mist, a movement caught her eye and she gasped, her scalp tightening with fear. She thought she glimpsed someone watching them, but when she looked closer, there was nothing there. The clearing was familiar to her; she recognised it from her dreams. How could she dream about a place she’d never been to?
‘You okay, there? You look kind of spacey again.’
She wanted to tell him about the carving and the strange visions she’d been having, but something deeper inside her cautioned against it. He’d talk to Dan and Dan wouldn’t understand.
‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m okay. Deja vu, I think.’ She thought she glimpsed a half-smile forming, but he turned his face away from hers before she could be sure.
There was something in the slope of his shoulders, the shape of his back, the curve of his legs that made her think she’d met him before, long before they’d ever come to Scotland. And as soon as the thought took shape, the gnawing suspicion in her gut returned.
‘Mike? Did you ever live in Bristol?’
‘No. I know the city pretty well, but I’ve never lived there. Why?’
She noticed he’d reddened, almost imperceptibly, and a hint of defensiveness had crept into his tone.
‘There’s something very familiar about you. I thought maybe we’d met before, you know, had friends in common or something.’
‘No, you’re wrong. Come on, let’s head back.’
What are you hiding?
The evening closed in quickly and they returned to the cottage having walked in a loop around the station. Dan was reading a book, the soft-glow of the table lamp casting shadows on the landscape of his face. Tempting smells wafted from the kitchen.
‘Something smells good.’ Esther steadied herself with one hand on the banisters as a streak of pain jolted through her body. Neither Dan nor Mike noticed.
Dan looked pleased with himself. ‘I made a casserole. Good, solid nourishment for the little one. I expect you’ll be tired after your walk?’
Esther shrugged her coat off and hung it on the peg. ‘I am. Is there enough for three?’
Dan raised an eyebrow at Mike. ‘Want to stay? There’s plenty and we have that bread you baked still.’
Mike hesitated. ‘Er, yeah. Sure. I’m not going to be in the way?’
Esther and Dan both shook their heads to reassure him.
‘Dan, would you mind if I took a tray upstairs? I’m beat and want to get horizontal.’ She didn’t want to admit in front of Mike that for the last twenty minutes of their walk, the pain from the suction collar had been white-hot and she was worried she’d rubbed the skin raw.
‘No, silly. Why would I? Go and get some rest. I’ll bring the tray up in a bit.’
Gingerly, she climbed the stairs. She shouldn’t have tried to hide the fact that she was limping, but she didn’t want Mike to think of her as weaker, someone who needed constant looking after. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but it was important to her that other people saw her first and not her disability. What was it her mother always said? Pride comes before a fall? She might have a point, Esther was fit to drop from tiredness and pain – and all too aware that she could have called a halt to it before it got
so bad.
She undressed, put on her nightshirt and sat on the edge of the bed as she applied cleansing lotion with cotton wool pads to her face. Snatches of chatter from the kitchen drifted up the stairs.
‘. . . walked round in a loop . . .’ Mike’s voice.
‘. . . yeah, that’s the route I take too when I go for a run . . .’ Dan’s voice.
‘She asked me whether I’d ever lived in Bristol.’
Esther sat up straight, knocking the cleanser off the edge of the bed onto the floor, the noise muffling Dan’s response. Why would he mention that?
Using a cotton-wool pad, she mopped up the few drops of cleanser that had spilled and left the used pad at the side of the bed. She was in too much pain to make it to the bathroom tonight. She eased herself into bed, her dark hair contrasting with the crisp whiteness of the pillowcases. Her thoughts clattered against each other – the teeth of a misaligned cog. They were definitely hiding something from her – but what? She felt like she was floating and within a few moments of closing her eyes, Esther was fast asleep.
*
The fog, illuminated by the moon, left a phosphorescent trail along the glen. All around, insects tunnelled and burrowed, churning the earth, exposing it to the air like the secrets Esther would soon uncover.
Deep within the soil, the primal rumblings continued and the groves of rowans assumed the mantle of a conduit between the ageless oaks and wizened hazels. The rest of the forest leaned in closer trying to eavesdrop, impatient to understand what was unfolding.
The station inhaled air that was laden with the rich aroma of larch, lichen, and anticipation from the forest. Esther’s time was coming.
6
THURSDAY
That night, when the dream came, Esther was ready. Each night had brought changes with it, subtle at first, but now gathering a pace that was impossible to resist. She allowed herself to be swept up by it, all the while aware of the dichotomy between her two realities. By day, with Dan, she had resented the changes, fought against them. At night, in her dream world, she made peace with the earth, allowing its ancient magick to flow over her, through her. The more she submitted, the more she understood.
She started running, and as she sped over the frozen earth, the world fell silent save for her heartbeat. She found a place to sit and wait, gazing at the moon. The forest invaded her. Its smell clung to her hair, its sounds rang in her ears. The night breeze moved the freezing air around her and the trees sighed. Esther closed her eyes and listened.
She could hear gurgling as the water chased over the stony river bed, escaping from the mountains above. She changed course towards it, all the time listening out for the hunter behind her. The trees thinned and the shallow water beckoned. She hopped across from boulder to boulder, her gown trailing in the stream until it was no longer clear where the dress ended and the water began. Across the bank, the oak watched her pick her way through the water. She half-remembered being here before, but the last time she was fleeing from the hunter. She replayed the scene, the fear and panic she’d felt then just a distant memory. She was here on her own terms now, actively seeking the answers that evaded her waking hours.
Guided by instinct alone, she ran low to the ground, the owls screeching encouragement. Too late, she realised she was at the stream and about to fall down the bank again. The hunter would not get a chance this time. At the very last second, she jumped, aiming to clear as much of the burbling water as she could.
Esther climbed the bank, using the tree roots to pull herself up and smearing soil across her cheek as she pushed her hair away from her face. She spotted the door carved into the trunk of the ancient oak. It was closed. Where did it lead? Did she have the courage to find out?
She knelt and ran her hands over the edges of the door. It was about three feet tall, maybe a little taller. She pressed all around the sides, like a safe-cracker feeling for the right combination. Perhaps it was an elaborate joke. After all, if she did open it, it couldn’t lead anywhere. She sat back on her heels, perplexed, and it was then that she noticed the small gap under the door; the kind of gap where shadows could slip inside and where secrets hid.
The sky above tinged with pink as the moon set. Soon it would be light. The forest had told her as much as she needed to know for now and she sat with her back against the carved door, watching the creeping dawn. Before long, she felt her thoughts drifting as her body relaxed.
The hunter settled into the bushes across the riverbank and watched as she slept.
*
Dan was downstairs when she woke, clattering dishes in the kitchen as he put them into the cupboard. She hadn’t been aware of him at all during the night, so deep was her sleep, but at least he’d come to bed, judging by the rumpled sheets. She lay back, cushioned by the downy pillows, trying to work out whether there was any lasting damage from her exertions yesterday. She tightened and flexed each muscle group, feeling the tension evaporate as she relaxed. Apart from the odd twinge, there didn’t seem to be anything to be concerned about. She’d been lucky. Her stump was a different matter though. She swung herself out of bed and grabbed her backpack from where it was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Even before she inspected her thigh with the hand-held mirror, the crawling, itching tightness of her skin – like fresh sunburn – told her what she’d find. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have gone to sleep last night without checking her skin? Sure enough, her skin was irritated, raw where the suction liner had rubbed. She would need help to deal with this.
‘Dan?’ Are you there?’
There was no answer and the noise downstairs had stopped. She lay back on the pillows, listening for some sign of life below. He couldn’t have gone far. Perhaps he’d gone to fetch more logs for the wood burner. She watched the slow crawl of the minute hand on her alarm clock. After ten minutes, there was still no sign of him.
‘Dan!’ She shouted as loud as she could. ‘Dan!’
What if he’d gone out? Was she on her own? Oh, God! This was her worst fear. Being marooned here, in need of help and completely at the mercy of someone else. How had he ever talked her into it? She knew this would happen. Knew that coming here was a bad idea. She knew she’d never been very good at being independent, that she relied on Dan for more than she should, but it was easier somehow. Easier to let him look after her. Easier not to make a fuss about things, to do everything his way. Now she was helpless and alone – and in pain.
A new thought occurred to her. It wasn’t just her that relied on him now. She had the baby to think of. All the worries she’d put behind her came flooding back. How could he think it was a good idea to move here now? Didn’t he want his child to be safe? If she started to miscarry now, she didn’t even know how far it was to the nearest hospital, or whether they could even get there. The bridge was out, the fog was treacherous, they had no way of calling for help, and the car was in a ditch somewhere. Her emotions spiralled, adrenalin heightening the anxiety she felt, until all her simmering frustrations spilled over.
She hurled the hand-mirror at the wall. It caught the edge of her jewellery box and knocked it off the dressing table, the contents spilling out over the floor. Immediately remorseful, she sat on the floor and inched her way over to the carnage, careful to avoid the splinters of glass from the mirror. Among the jumble lay the two pregnancy test wands and the amber brooch.
‘Oh!’ she cried out, picking up the ballerina. The leg she pirouetted on had almost snapped in two, connected to the foot by the merest sliver of plastic. Esther tugged on the ballerina, severing her from her pedestal. Now we’re both stuck here waiting to be rescued. She immediately felt bad for breaking the figure. It wasn’t often that her temper got the better of her. She’d ask Dan to fix it.
Now her anger had dissipated, she took stock of her situation. She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, unable to make sense of what was happening to her. Wasn’t
this scenario exactly what she faced each night in her dreamscape? And she’d survived, becoming stronger, adapting to the world around her, taking advantage of the secrets it revealed. It was just a dream, she knew that, but it was teaching her something, showing her that she had inner strength. She could deal with the pain in her leg. Nothing was going to happen to the baby, and if it did, she’d be prepared. When Dan got back, she’d make sure he had detailed plans in place in case of an emergency. Just a few more days without a phone. She’d get through this.
She heard the front door close, felt the change in the air temperature creep up the stairs.
‘Dan? Is that you?’
‘Yes, love. Everything alright?’ He poked his head around the bedroom door and surveyed the scene in front of him. ‘Hell! Es, are you okay?’
‘I got myself into a bit of a pickle. I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Stay there, don’t move. I’ll get something to clear up the glass, then we’ll get you sorted.’
She heard him banging about downstairs and when he came back up he’d brought a dustpan and brush, and the cylinder vacuum cleaner. He put his arms under her shoulders and lifted her off the floor, setting her down onto the bed while he picked up the largest slivers of glass with his hands. She watched him as he swept the remaining shards into the dustpan, plugging the vacuum cleaner in to pick up any loose fragments. When the slooshing-tinkling sound of glass against the metal tube, he stopped and pressed the off switch, taking the plug out of the wall. He retracted the cord and carried the machine out onto the landing.
‘What happened?’
‘Oh, Dan. I don’t know. I did too much yesterday and my leg is on fire. So I tried to deal with it myself, but couldn’t. Then you weren’t here and I was on my own.’ Aware how needy she sounded, she cast her eyes downward, shrinking back into herself, all her bravado gone.