by Bee Lewis
Even though they’d only lived at Rosgill for a week, the spare room was beginning to resemble a church-hall jumble sale as they’d dipped in and out of various boxes, looking for items of clothing. She started on the pile nearest to her and began to fold the clothes that lay rumpled in a heap. Memories came back to her as she handled the fabrics. A shirt of Dan’s he’d worn to a gallery opening. A sparkly top she’d fallen in love with on the sale rail, but which still bore its tags like it was an item of lost property waiting to be reclaimed. Each fold felt like she was packing her life away, tucking it neatly into a box that she could tape shut.
She sank down onto a pile of towels and bedding in the corner of the room. Was she being unfair to Dan? Did she expect too much? Don’t go down that road again, Esther. It was too easy, making excuses for him, shifting the blame onto herself. Although she’d never admitted it before, she was the same as the women she’d tried to help at Helen House. He may never have been physically violent to her, but he’d never been emotionally available either. She’d allowed it, excused it, enabled it. And it was clicking into place, the teeth aligned on the cog. She and Dan would never be quite right together. But Dan and Mike . . . well, that made more sense. And now it was time to put a stop to it, to grow a pair – as Sophie would have told her.
The future stretched out in front of her. Instead of fearing what it would be like to live without Dan, she felt a tentative fluttering of hope. Wherever they ended up, whatever she had to endure to make it happen, she’d create a world where her child was secure and loved. Just a few more days and the next stage of their journey could begin.
‘It’s you and me, Kiddo,’ she said, her hand smoothing her top over her stomach, her wedding ring catching on the fabric. ‘You. Me. Us.’
Mike’s voice wound its way up the stairs. Thank God. There was only so much time Esther could spend folding clothes so that she didn’t have to share the same space as Dan. Although she didn’t want to spend any more time with Mike either, but at least he’d be a diversion. He’d probably take Dan off somewhere, leaving her to be alone with her thoughts. And she had so many things to think about.
When she reached the kitchen, the two men were sitting at the table. Dan’s hands were mottled and raw from the cold and he was blowing on them.
‘Hey, Esther. How’ya?’
Mike half-stood as she entered the room and she almost giggled – his chivalry seemed out of keeping with his lusty approach and crude sensibility. And the fact that he was fucking her husband.
‘Hey, Mike. Good to see you.’ She surprised herself. Out of habit, her eyes flicked across to check Dan’s expression, but he was still trying to warm his hands and didn’t look up at her.
‘I see you’ve had this fella hard at work already. He’s done a grand job of clearing the snow off the platform.’
‘Great – thanks.’ It was hard to summon up any enthusiasm, but she knew that if she didn’t respond, Dan’s gimlet senses would needle away at her until he’d provoked her into speaking her mind.
‘I brought some more bread. It’s still warm.’
Again, she had the feeling he was somehow putting a on show, that the real man was partially obscured by the veneer he’d crafted.
‘Thank you.’ Her manners rose to the surface. ‘You can’t keep giving us treats though.’
A fleeting shadow passed over his face. ‘It’s no bother. And it’s not like you’ve been able to get out much, is it? Just being friendly.’
I’ll miss it here.
The thought was unwelcome and unsettling. She’d only been there a week, not enough time to form any type of bond with the place. Leaving Dan meant leaving Rosgill far behind. Dan was her connection, the tether that bound them. To her surprise, she could feel tears beginning to form and looked away in an attempt to regain her composure.
‘Well, I’m happy to eat as much bread as you can make.’
Esther started. She’d almost forgotten Dan was in the room still.
Mike chuckled and Esther joined in, but to her own ears she sounded forced, strained. She hoped Dan wouldn’t pick up on it.
If only things were different. From her initial misgivings about their move, she could now see that she might have been happy here. Dan’s vision for their business and their life here was seductive. She couldn’t allow herself to be derailed.
Mike broke the silence. ‘D’you guys fancy going for a ride?’
Dan appeared startled and shot Mike a quizzical look.
‘You know, in the Land Rover? With your car out of action and the fog, you’ve not been able to get around and explore. Just thought it might be nice to get out of here.’
The couple spoke at the same time.
Esther: ‘Yes!’
‘No, thanks.’ Dan.
‘Jeez. You two are in a weird mood today.’ Mike shook his head. ‘Dan, do you mind if I take your lovely wife out for a ride?’ He raised his eyebrow suggestively.
Esther could tell Dan was scowling, even without looking at his face. His ears gave him away, just a fraction flatter against his skull, the tips white, as though they had been pinched, hard.
‘Fine.’ Mike stood and opened the door to the outside. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yeah. See you.’ Dan barely acknowledged the other man leave.
Even though she didn’t want to engage Dan in conversation, Esther couldn’t understand why he’d been so rude.
‘What’s wrong? What’s with you and Mike? Lover’s tiff?’ She glared at Dan.
‘What? Bloody hell. You’ve really lost it.’
‘Maybe if you paid me the same interest as you give him, there wouldn’t be a problem.’
When he didn’t respond, she got up and went outside, slamming the door behind her. The force made the mirror rattle against the cottage wall. Mike and Dan were welcome to each other – and she intended to tell them.
*
Outside, the calmness brought by the snow belied the turbulence within the cottage. Animals slumbered in dens, dreys, in the crooks of trees. But the trees knew that the end was approaching and their boughs sighed and creaked under the heavy burden.
Somewhere close by, an owl hooted, calling for the audience to once again take their places as the final act began.
9
EASTER SUNDAY
The forest embraced her as Esther danced across its expanse. This was where she wanted to be, where she belonged. She’d shrugged off the shackles of her daytime life and found the place where she felt happiest. Spirits called to her from the cracks between rock, between layers of bark. Fern fronds unfurled as she passed, stroking the air behind her. The rocks in the stream, vaguely square in shape, led her eye further up the hill to where the trees thinned to make way for the bracken, gorse, and heather that hugged the gentle curves of the glen floor. She picked her way through the boulders, lifting the hem of her dress out of the way as she clambered over the obstacles.
Deep inside her, she knew the hunter wouldn’t come to her again and with that knowledge came freedom. She had made peace with him, shown him that strength takes many forms. The freedom to explore, to exist, to understand her place in the world, was all laid out in front of her. She reached the edge of the forest and studied the undulations of the glen ahead. Her breath misted about her face as the temperature plunged.
Overhead, stars glinted and glimmered; shards of ice studded into the fabric of the sky. The moon, now at its fullest point, illuminated the glen, and Esther paused, savouring the view as the expanse of land opened up before her. She ran forward, as fast as she could, hair streaming out behind her. Before she’d even become aware of it, the change happened and her speed increased as she took on the now-familiar hare form. Energy coursed through her body, its animal shape seeming to skim the earth’s curves as she sped across the fields. This was what living felt like; how freedom tasted. She
’d heard friends talk about dreams of flying, but the image was meaningless to her. For her, freedom was the ability to run great distances with the speed of the wind, to zig-zag through long grass, and feel the impact on her muscles – in one heartbeat at full stretch, in the next tightly coiled, as she turned the world with her heels.
No longer afraid of her appearance, she revelled in the liberty she’d gained, leaping from rock to crag, pausing to sniff twig and leaf. It was as though she’d never seen the world before. Every time she turned her head, there was something new to behold. The earth was getting ready to greet Spring and she felt the welcome rising upwards through her feet into her body. The sound of water lapping against stones piqued her curiosity and soon she found herself staring into the pewter waters of the loch.
As she drank from the edge of the water, she remembered something Dan had said on their first evening. The loch was a man-made reservoir, made by flooding the original Rosgill village. Despite her warm pelt, she shivered. Deep below the surface lay the backbones of houses and shops that had witnessed so many lives passing through. If they could talk to her, what would they say? It didn’t matter, she realised, they couldn’t make her change her mind. She was just as much a part of this landscape as any other living thing. Without knowing how, she’d become embedded, entangled, her night-time reality at odds with the claustrophobia she felt during the day. Leaving here would take all her strength, but she knew that time was coming.
The chanting started as a low rumble in her chest, spreading outwards, carried by the haemoglobin in her blood. It was the same sound she’d heard when she found the wooden carving, only now it was more distinct and she could make out the words – even if she didn’t understand their meaning.
O-nam, gho rehsh nA’tham. O-nam, gho rehsh nA’tham.
She stood with her eyes closed, reclaiming her human shape, reaching out to the moon as though to pluck it from the sky.
O-nam, gho rehsh nA’tham.
The words formed in her mouth easily and as she spoke them, she became aware of a new force flowing through her, quiet and determined – a force that brought with it truth and clarity, pushing away the last remaining doubts and insecurities that lingered from her waking moments.
The car. If Dan had nothing else to hide, the car would be abandoned at the side of the road like he said.
*
Esther opened her eyes, grimacing as she looked at the clock. Almost 7 a.m. and she was alone again. Dan was making it too easy for her. Now she was sure there was only one place he could be – Mike’s croft. She felt her leg, getting ready to wince, but there was no arc of pain, no tell-tale heat indicating an infection. She reached out for Peggy and leaned her weight onto the supporting shaft. Her hands trembled as she made her way down the stairs, adrenalin replacing her blood. She was tempted to rush up to the croft, but held her instinct in check. She’d need to be prepared, to approach it logically, if she was to stand the best chance of finding out the truth. If she faltered, Dan would spot it and use it against her, confusing her, coaxing her into thinking that she had it all wrong.
Mike had said he lived to the north, about two and a half miles away. She was confident she could walk that distance if she was on the road, even in the snow. Walking the lane from the Halt to the road would be more difficult. She grabbed her stick from the coat rack and at the last moment, picked up the spare car keys, just in case the car was driveable. She caught sight of herself in the hated mirror. There was a wildness in her eyes, emphasised by the dark shadows beneath, her pale skin punctuated by high colour in her cheeks. She attempted to smooth her hair with the flat of her hand, but it had little impact.
‘What are you doing, Esther? Do you really think the car will be there, just because you dreamed it?’
Her voice sounded out of place in the still air of the cottage. Her reflection stared back, unable to provide her with any answers. She pulled her woollen hat down firmly over her ears and brushed her fringe away from her eyes. She was ready to face the truth.
The world outside the front door was cosseted by a fresh layer of snow. She inhaled deeply, the clean mountain air chilling her lungs, enjoying the cleansing sensation after being cooped up in the cottage. The powdery coating crunched underfoot as she followed the indentations Dan had made earlier. She started off by overlaying his footprints with hers, but his stride was longer and they were soon out of sync. She pushed on, mouth set in determination.
The sun appeared over the tops of the trees, its watery rays glinting off the white ground, picking out the dimpled drifts. She felt the ground change beneath her, the start of the shallow incline to the road. She stopped to look back at the Halt, nestled into the mountainside. Mike had been right. It was enchanting, and for a moment she felt wistful that her time here was coming to an end.
As she reached the top of the incline, she let out a sigh of relief. Getting up the lane had been harder than she’d anticipated, but the snowplough had been through the glen, clearing the top road, pushing the snow into the ditches on either side. She decided to continue, at least as far as the place where Dan said he’d abandoned the car.
The sheen of the wet tarmac contrasted with the opaline earth. The snow was patchier up here, with most of it settling around the Halt and in the ditches. There was a new type of silence, not the dank, smothering silence of the fog, but a silence full of promise, as though the atmosphere had been purified. She continued, settling into a rhythm as she passed tree branches bent heavy under their icing-sugar burden.
Chandeliers of tiny icicles hung from fence rails and road signs. She’d been walking for about thirty minutes and guessed, at her pace, she was probably half-way to the croft. There was no sign of the car. The snow was piled high, taller than her in some places, but she was sure she’d have been able to spot the car if it had been where Dan said he’d left it.
So her fears were confirmed. She should be hurting, her heart should be pummelled into fragments. Yet she felt calm, serene, resolved. A quiet peace settled on her and she pulled its mantle tighter around her.
Esther eyed the ditches warily. If she heard Dan coming, would it be better to hide, or stay put? The decision was made for her; she couldn’t risk falling into the ditch and harming the baby. She’d stand her ground, making an excuse for why she was out there alone. Even though the road had been cleared, it was still heavy going underfoot and she had to be careful not to slip in the treacherous conditions. Her whole body was tensed and she knew she’d pay heavily for her exertions, her muscles cramping with cold and her gait uneven.
By the time she found the sign for the reservoir she was panting heavily. Taking a moment to rest, she spotted the track that led to the left, to Mike’s croft, just as he’d said. She took a deep breath. There was still no sign of the car and she didn’t want to think about what that meant.
As soon as she left the road, snow covered the ground again, but she used the tyre tracks to guide her. They were fresh – or at least, they had been made sometime after the last of the heavier snow fall.
After a short distance, the trees along the lane thinned, opening out onto fields covered in downy white. A dark smudge on the landscape ahead gave away the position of the crofter’s cottage, smoke rising from the chimney stack. As she approached, she noticed Mike’s Land Rover was parked outside, along with the silver Toyota. Vindication rang hollow around her ribcage; she’d been right, there was nothing wrong with the car after all. He’d lied again. Had he ever been truthful with her? It should have hurt, she knew she should have felt her stomach lurch as the depth of his betrayal hit home, but the only thing she felt was a renewed determination to find out the truth, no matter what the consequences were.
She stalked around the outside of the croft, getting her bearings. The single-storey stone building rose out of the earth, the only man-made marker in the bleak landscape. At the east end of the cottage was a lean-to with a woodpil
e and workshop. At the other end, there was a squat chimney stack. Further away, there were two over-ground tanks; she assumed one was the oil storage tank and the other the septic tank. The quarter-light above a window with frosted glass – the bathroom she presumed – was open at the rear of the house, even though the temperature was icy. She could make out male voices inside, but not what they were saying. She moved closer, crouching under the window.
‘She’s been really weird the last few days. Do you think she knows?’ Dan’s voice.
Esther’s breath caught in her throat.
‘About her father? Yes. I told you she found the letters. There’s no way she was just going to leave them be.’ Mike answered.
Confused, she leaned against the croft. How could Mike know?
Dan said something she couldn’t make out and Mike responded again, this time his voice sounded closer, like he’d moved nearer to the open window.
‘She read those letters, I’m telling you.’
The only way Mike could have been so sure was if he had been there, but he was with Dan all day. It had only been her and Major Tom in the bedroom and the cat was hardly able to tell tales.
Her heart jumped against her breastbone. What if . . . what if— No! Don’t be ridiculous, Esther. There had to be another explanation, an explanation that made sense. But the thought was insistent. She was beginning to accept that there were many things she’d never understand. Rosgill was a gateway between two worlds and, somehow, she’d found the key that allowed her to travel between them. Perhaps Mike had been having the same dreams.
‘Is that all she knows?’ Dan’s question sliced across her thoughts.
‘You mean, does she know about us? She’s a cold fish that one, but I don’t think she’d be able to hold something like that back. She’d be all too ready to tell us what she thought.’