Liminal E-Book

Bee Lewis

• Herausgeber: Salt
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 360

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Esther is a pregnant amputee, estranged from her father who caused the accident in which she lost her leg. She and her husband, Dan, are journeying by car to their new home, an abandoned station called Rosghill in the Scottish Highlands. Spanning the course of a week, Bee Lewis's gothic fantasia follows Esther as her marriage, life and body begin to dramatically change. By day, she is isolated physically and mentally within her marriage and new environment. By night, she explores a forbidding forest, pursued by a shadowy figure. Symbolism, dreams and violence abound in this spellbinding unsnaring of a soul.

Leseprobe

LIMINAL

by 

BEE LEWIS

Esther, a pregnant amputee, and her husband, Dan, are seeking a new life, setting up home – restoring an abandoned railway station called Rosgill, far away in the Scottish Highlands.

Spanning the course of a week, Bee Lewis’s gothic fantasia follows Esther as her marriage, life and body begin to dramatically change. By day, she is isolated physically and mentally within her marriage and her new environment. By night, she explores a forbidding forest, pursued by a shadowy figure.

Symbolism, dreams and violence abound in this spellbinding unsnaring of a soul.

PRAISE FOR THIS BOOK

‘Liminal is a novel that swallows the reader instantly. Part literary thriller, part eco-cry, it’s a book of mysteries and nature, and the way the two entwine to create both beauty and havoc. Esther, new to the Scottish Highlands, is struggling with the gaps left by various griefs and betrayals, as well as trying to understand an elusive, mercurial husband. She straddles a dangerously vibrating line between past traumas and vivid dreams. Lush prose, a haunting landscape and slippery menfolk – who prefer to follow their own compulsions – combine to make this a captivating, irresistible read. Bee Lewis has written a splendid début.’ —NUALA O’CONNOR, author of Joyride to Jupiter

Liminal 

Born in Liverpool to a rambling Irish family, Bee Lewis now lives on the south coast between Brighton and Eastbourne. She has a number of publishing credits including British Short Stories 2015 (Salt), Flash Fiction Magazine, and Rattle Tales. In 2016, Bee was shortlisted for the Brighton Prize, winning the Sussex Prize category, and graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from MMU. Liminal is her debut novel and she is busy working on the next one which is set in Sussex.

For Sophie 1970–2012

And for Estelle, Fin, Davis, and Adele who picked me up and put me back together again.

Each thing changes, but nothing ever dies. The spirit wanders, roaming here and there, and takes possession of a creature’s limbs, whatever body it desires, passing from savage animals to human beings, from human beings to beasts, but spirits never are destroyed. Just as pliant wax shaped in a new form does not stay the same as what it was before or keep its shape, and yet in essence does remain the same.

Ovid – Metamorphoses

1

SATURDAY

Winter had come late leaving harsh scars across the countryside and, even now at the closing of March, there was no sign of it abating. The days were short and the cold soaked into the soil, along with the icy rains, leaving the frost-shocked earth battered and exposed. The bone-numbing wind tried to breathe new life into the ancient landscape, but Spring was not yet ready to be roused and instead pulled a cloak of frost around her.

Beneath the wintry quicksilver water of the loch, the mottled pike lurked, its torpedo body unchanged by the centuries, impervious to the cold. Patient as the ages, a pitiless water-wolf who had seen many winters and hunted for prey with a singular compulsion, even choosing its own offspring as targets.

The mountain hare looked with hope towards the sky. Her white winter coat marked her out against the bleak mountainside and she waited for stars to fall, eddying to the ground, covering the earth with their crystalline flakes. Driven by instinct to the higher ground, she shrank back into the brutal boulders as the golden eagle wheeled overhead. Food was scarce for all creatures and her white coat marked her out.

Winter endured. The mistle thrushes bickered with the silver birches who had long played host to clumps of shining, green mistletoe. Berries dropped to the forest floor in the tussle and the birds scattered, leaving the spoils for the army of grouse below.

High up on the mountainside, an auditorium of oaks rustled in muted shusherings to each other. From their vantage point across the glen, they watched as a lone vehicle snaked around the hillsides, hugging the curves in the road, heading towards Rosgill. The water in the burn babbled to the blades of grass on the bank in childish excitement. The grass in turn, stiffened against the cold, lifted lazy tendrils in half-hearted applause and the old station building sat low on its haunches, as it had for decades, waiting.

The Scots Pines, thrust up from the frozen ground, tilted closer to listen to the whisperings of the old building. The pleated landscape eavesdropped and, in the purple light between day and darkness, a young stag paused, sniffing the air as he sensed the change.

She was coming.

*

The lights, buildings, shops and houses of Invergill gave way to the empty road ahead. The further they drove from the town, the more they were aware of being alone. Esther and Dan had been travelling since early morning and for most of the day before. Fatigue oozed from their skin and clothes. As usual, Dan insisted on doing all of the driving and so, having nothing else to concentrate on, Esther’s focus shifted to finding things that irritated her. It was quite a list. The air conditioning in their silver Toyota was too cold. The door pocket jabbed into her left leg, causing her to wriggle and twist throughout the journey. Her corduroy skirt rode up, leaving the skin on the backs of her thighs to rub against the grain of the plush fabric as she fidgeted.

She should have listened to Dan when he’d suggested she wear jeans, but it had felt like such a small and inconsequential act of rebellion in the face of other, larger decisions she could do nothing about. She wondered again whether they were just running away from the problems they’d left behind in Bristol. The city was her touchstone, its roads were rooted in her veins, its houses in her cells. Yet she’d agreed to leave her sanctuary, trading the strident city streets for the cool mountain air and yawning expanse. She’d heard her rational self trotting out the reasons why: new life, fresh start, fantastic opportunity, support for Dan. But she couldn’t ignore the small voice deep inside her that invaded her dreams and called her out for the coward she was.

The vanity mirror on the sun visor taunted her. She flipped it back up, not wanting to see how the weak light accentuated the shadows under her eyes, or how her normally sleek bob kinked out at the ends. She should have had her hair cut before leaving Bristol; it would be all blue rinses and perms in the salons up here.

The pressure from the stump collar added to her discomfort and, for a moment, she considered removing Peggy, the childish name she’d given to her prosthetic leg. Deciding there couldn’t be much further to go, she tried to divert her thoughts, but the combination of tiredness and discomfort channelled into irritation at petty things she’d usually ignore. The radio kept de-tuning. Dan was driving too fast, braking too late, the road was too bumpy. Finally, she jabbed at the off button.

‘Hey! I was listening to that.’ Dan kept his focus on the road but didn’t reach to switch the radio back on again.

‘We’ve been listening to it all day. I just want a bit of silence.’

‘You don’t want to know the football scores? Or whether they’ve found that girl that went missing?’

She didn’t respond.

‘What about whether they’ve captured that escaped prisoner, then?’ He grinned.

‘You mean the escaped prisoner that absconded about six hundred miles from here and is probably half-way to Spain by now?’

‘But he could come and murder us in our beds!’ He emphasised the word murder, in the style of low-budget Scottish crime dramas.

In spite of her discomfort, she smiled at his attempt at an accent. ‘You’ll need to be careful round here. People won’t like you taking the piss like that. How long till we get there?’

‘Twenty minutes.’

She settled back into her seat and tried to take in the expanding countryside around her, conscious that every turn of the wheels took her further away from their old life. These mountains, these glens, her home now, were so very different to their waterside apartment in Bristol. In the beginning, she hadn’t liked the apartment much either, but after she’d softened some of the hard, architectural lines with plants, art, and cushions, and injected some colour into the vacant space, she felt as though it had taken on some of her personality, not just Dan’s. She glanced at Dan; softening him wasn’t so easy.

A lump of unhappiness nestled in her windpipe, and she tried to swallow it down as it threatened to either choke her or to spew out her true feelings. They’d been away from the city for less than 48 hours, but she could still feel its pavements solid beneath her, reminding her where and who she was. She’d have no such comfort here, the hidden obstacles lying in wait to snare her: pitted ground, animal dens, roots, branches. The physical environment brought fresh dangers, but it was the emotional landscape that troubled her more.

Leafing through the magazine she’d bought at the last fuel stop, she skim-read an article called ‘Surviving Stress – Techniques to Put You Back in Charge.’ It listed the top five causes of stress: death, illness, job loss, moving house, and divorce. Mentally ticking them off as she went, she skirted around the fifth – divorce. In one way or another, their lives had been irreversibly changed in the last twelve months. There was nothing new that a magazine article could tell her.

She she glanced at Dan, trying to assess how he might be feeling. She’d always believed herself to be more mutable than him, but she allowed herself to admit that even she was feeling overwhelmed. Perhaps she should take her cues from him. For someone who didn’t adapt well to change, it had been his idea to uproot them, and he showed no outward signs that he was struggling. Now here they were, just minutes from their new home, and he seemed more relaxed than she did. More relaxed than he’d been for months. Even so, she was on her guard for the micro-expressions that would help her gauge how to respond, how to diffuse any tension.

The snow-topped mountains seemed to form a protective cloak around them as the car beetled along the black ribbon of road bisecting the mountainside – an attempt to tame the landscape with a feat of engineering. Esther knew that if she asked, Dan would tell her how the road was constructed. Not just what it was made from, but the techniques used to cut into the slopes, how the machinery was choreographed into place, and how much the endeavour would have cost in relative terms. She decided not to mention it, feeling a spark of satisfaction from denying him such a small pleasure.

His hands were at their customary ten-to-two position on the steering wheel, exactly as his driving instructor had taught him. She watched him as he drove, noticing a scratch on his left wrist. It looked fresh, probably a result of putting the boxes into the car. She’d bought him a watch once, in the early days of their relationship, but he’d only worn it a few times. As she’d slowly discovered more about him, she realised how inappropriate her gift had been – he was a walking atomic clock, regimented to the second. Everything about him was logical, precise, measured. He was a welcome antidote to the chaos of her childhood and she loved that she could count on him. Solid, consistent, dependable Daniel. Right up until the day she couldn’t.

A mustard-sting of tears peppered the back of her nose. Her eyes dropped to his left hand as it rested on the wheel, his wedding ring glinting at her, accusing. She looked down at her own undecorated left hand, then resumed staring out of the window.

He slowed the car and peered into the hedgerow. ‘Somewhere along here is the turnoff for Rosgill. Ah, there it is.’ He pointed to a small white sign, with faded black lettering, partially obscured by the hedge. He indicated, though they hadn’t passed another vehicle for several miles, then turned the car down a narrow, unmade road. The car lurched and juddered as they drove down the pitted lane. She doubted whether she’d ever be able to walk up to the road on her own given how rough the terrain was, but at the same time, tendrils of excitement crept along her veins. She was about to see their new home for the first time.

‘You weren’t kidding when you said it was remote. Will anyone even be able to find us here?’

‘That’s kind of what I had in mind. Just you, me, and the great Scottish wilderness.’ He reached across to put his hand on her knee, but at the last minute, seemed to change his mind and patted her arm instead.

‘And Bump.’ Esther stroked her stomach. ‘And the paying guests who are making all of this possible.’

He smiled across at her and smoothed his hand over her flat stomach. ‘And Bump,’ he said, softly. ‘Though Bump’s a misnomer just now. He’s no bigger than a grape.’

As they pulled up at Rosgill Halt, the wind blew across the glen to greet them. Whether it was in welcome or in warning, she couldn’t tell, but Esther shivered as she got out of the car and pulled her cardigan close around her, hands crossed in unconscious protection over her stomach. The pink sandstone building, rooted into the landscape, stared back.

Years of neglect scarred the station façade. Paint blistered like psoriasis from every wooden surface; sage green for the doors and white for the canopy and window-frames. One of the windows to the old ticket office had cracked. She remembered Dan telling her that many of the original signs and features had been stolen some years back, the souvenir hunters coming like grave-robbers in the night to make a profit at the auctions, selling items to collectors and interior designers. All colour had bled out of the signage that remained and she wondered if the souvenir hunters had stolen that too, pocketing the pigments and tints like stardust to be sprinkled in new places – places with promise, encouraging people to congregate and commune. Buddleia and bindweed invaded the disused track-bed, while more vines spilled in through one of the windows to the side. There were more buildings on the opposite platform, a mirror image of where she stood. The symmetry was pleasing even though it could have been a scene straight out of a gothic horror movie.

‘Do you want your stick out of the boot?’

‘No, thanks. The platform seems level enough. I just need to get the circulation going again.’ Esther flexed her knee joint, glad to have the space to stretch.

Dan swung the first of the bags out of the car. ‘What do you think, then? Let’s see inside, shall we?’ He didn’t wait for the answer to either question before striding off to open the huge door into the old ticket hall.

She followed him, curious to see the inside of their new home.

‘Isn’t it great?’

She thought his enthusiasm was misplaced. ‘Dan, it’s huge . . . even just getting it fit to live in . . .’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘Do you think we’re up to this?’

He turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. The buildings are sound. Once the new kitchen and bathrooms are in, most of the work is cosmetic. By the time the baby arrives, it’ll be our little palace.’

‘Maybe,’ Esther said, her voice small against the sprawl of the buildings before her.

He seemed to sense her hesitation. ‘Look, it’s been a long journey and it’s a lot to take in, I get it.’

She smiled. ‘Give me a minute to get my bearings. It’s very different seeing it now I’m here. The video you took didn’t really give me the sense of size.’

‘You should have come up with me. I did tell you to.’

She bit her tongue. ‘Let’s not, eh? I didn’t know you were coming up here until two days before. You know how busy my work schedule is.’ Was.

Dan patted her shoulder. She resisted the urge to shrug his hand away; she wasn’t a fretful child.

‘You’ll love it here. You will. Smell how clean the air is and imagine what it will be like to raise our children here.’

‘Children? Let’s see how we get on with this one.’ Esther patted her stomach, suppressing other responses that came to mind. No more popping out for coffee with friends, no more nipping to the new deli on the corner, or the artisan bakery you love so much. No mobile phone signal either, wait until you cotton on to that fact.

Dan went to fetch more bags from the car. They were finally here. How had he done that? How had he persuaded her? She’d tried to point out the things he’d miss when he started talk of moving away, but his enthusiasm turned her words into dandelion seeds and she watched them float away on the breeze. Maybe he was right and a new start was what they needed, she just wished it didn’t feel so final. But there was another reason that tugged at the edge of her conscience. Tracking down her father would be so much more difficult without the resources available to her in Bristol, and keeping it from Dan would be impossible. A little voice niggled away at her. Why should she have to keep it a secret from Dan? Hadn’t they had enough of secrets?

Not wanting to sour their arrival, she changed tack, opening her arms wide to take in the expanse of the land and buildings.

‘We really own all this? There’s so much space. I mean, it’s a proper station, not a halt.’

He put the bags down. ‘Yeah. I know. Over there is the station master’s house. Then there’s the ticket hall, waiting room, station master’s office and storeroom.’ He pointed to each area as he spoke. ‘On the opposite side, the buildings are pretty much the same but without the cottage. We’ll turn that waiting room and store room into our bedroom and a nursery. We’ll get some privacy and can keep the guests over this side so they won’t be disturbed by a crying baby.’

You mean the baby won’t be disturbed by inconsiderate guests? Her question was left unspoken.

He pointed to the neat pile of wooden planks and beams, protected from the worst of the weather by a green tarpaulin, flanked by a large skip. ‘Some of the building supplies have arrived.’ He paused, a rare smile breaking cover. ‘I have a surprise for you.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Come here.’

‘What?’ She followed him as he led her to the platform edge. She loved the way his smile seemed to add a quicksilver light to his slate eyes.

‘Do you see where the track bed is?’

‘Yes? The bit you want to turn into a performance space?’

‘I changed my mind.’

His face was unreadable again and she had no idea where his train of thought was going. It was unlike him to be so changeable. After five years together, she thought she knew every mood, every expression, but his actions over the last year made her question her assumptions. She looked up at him, trying not to show the worry on her face.

‘Oh?’

‘It’s going to be a surprise for you.’

She felt herself tense.

‘I’m going to build you a swimming pool, because I know how much you love to swim.’

She exhaled, happiness filling the space vacated by the air. Her very own pool. It was the best gift he could have given her. In the water, she could fully relax, not having to go through the automatic risk assessment she carried out internally every time she had to move. Is the surface even? Is the flooring slippery? Are there hidden trip hazards? What did she have to do to avoid falling? Her eyes brimmed with tears that he would think to do this for her. In the water she was weightless. Some days the pain in her leg was so bad that the only relief she could get was from floating. But above all, being in water meant she was equal to everyone else.

‘We’ll put solar panels up and rig up an air-source heat pump so that you can swim all year round.’

‘Really? Even in the winter? Can we afford it?’

He nodded. ‘The coolant in the pump boils at very low temperatures, so even on chilly winter days it should be an efficient way to heat the water. It’s an interesting challenge to get the best efficiency and sustainability ratio. And of course, it will be an added draw for the guests.’

With one sentence, he’d managed to tarnish her happiness. The pool wasn’t for her. Not really. It was a business decision and a project for him. She realised he was still talking and she assembled her best smile before giving him her full attention again.

‘. . . in its day, it was more important than a halt, but it was only a matter of time before stations like this closed.’

‘I had no idea you’d become such an expert.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that the station is so far away from the nearest town?’

‘It didn’t used to be. Weren’t you listening?’

Esther circled her temple with her forefinger. ‘Baby brain. I could forget my own name at times. Remind me.’

‘You’re Esther.’ He laughed and dodged her playful swipe. ‘This station served Rosgill village, but the village was abandoned and flooded to make the Invergill Reservoir. There was no need for the station after that.’

‘It’s a bit Twilight Zone knowing there’s a village at the bottom of the reservoir, though.’

‘I know. Creepy, right?’ Dan wiggled his fingers in front of her face and made a moaning sound, the way a child would when pretending to be a ghost.

Esther batted him away. ‘Actually, it’s pretty cool that you know all of this stuff. When the business starts up, the guests will love all of that.’

‘Well, little boys and train sets, you know. Now we own a piece of history. I’m a very, very lucky little boy.’

He reached out for her hand, but she stepped forward and put her arms around him. She felt him tense for a second, then he relaxed into her, holding her tight against him. He smelled of soap and his jumper was scratchy against her face. She breathed him in deeply, wishing she didn’t feel like a thief stealing affection from him.

‘When Bump arrives, I’m buying him the biggest train set we can afford.’

‘And if Bump is a girl?’

‘Then she’ll have the biggest train set we can afford. Complete with pink carriages and people she can dress up.’

Esther landed a playful slap on his chest.

‘Ow!’

‘Well, don’t be so sexist then. You aren’t your fath—’ she stopped, screwing her face up as she inwardly checked herself for being stupid enough to mention Eric.

Dan let go of her, stopping short of physically pushing her away. ‘I’ll check to see if the furniture got here.’ Picking up the bags, he strode up the platform to the house.

Esther followed him, still cursing herself and trying to ignore the creaking of the canopy overhead. She hoped that she wouldn’t be able to hear it from their bedroom.

She pushed the front door open and walked straight into the kitchen. It all felt unreal to her. She remembered childhood holidays in rented cottages, and the feeling they gave her, like they’d broken into someone else’s life and would be caught.

To her right, another doorway led to the stairs and the sitting room. Although it was the station master’s house, it was no grander than a large cottage with two main rooms downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs. The old box room had been converted to a severe bathroom, but at least it had a separate shower cubicle. It would do for now, but she was looking forward to the day when the renovations were complete and most of the accommodation was on one level. The whole place needed modernising and the cottage seemed like an afterthought, tacked onto the station as it was, breaking the line of symmetry.

Feeling for the light switch, Esther surveyed the kitchen. On first sight, she hated it. The central strip light overhead dimmed and flickered, then steadied. The pine cupboards, darkened with time and grease, were brassy ginger instead of the blonde they had once been. She’d had in her mind that there was a range cooker but now, standing in front of the free-standing gas cooker with its eye-level grill, she felt deflated. The removal men had plumbed in their washing machine, but there was no space for the dishwasher, which they’d dumped in the corner. She was glad Dan had suggested remodelling the waiting room as the new kitchen, even though it would make a big hole in what was left of their savings. It would be at the heart of the new layout, making it a focal point where the guests could gather, and it seemed to lend a more natural flow of movement through the house.

For now, she was stuck with this kitchen and its lurid yellow and green floral wallpaper that fought for her attention. It seemed to be everywhere. In contrast, the tiled splash backs were oatmeal-brown, some with wheat sheaves in relief, but the majority were plain. She closed her eyes. The room shimmied and shifted, and she felt air rush past her as everything grew in size. The edge of the table was now at her eye-level and she had to stand on tip-toe to see over it. Her mother, Anthea, stood at the stove wearing a yellow, frilled apron, stirring something monstrous in a saucepan. Esther knew that the memory should have made her feel more relaxed, made her smile, but instead the little ball of unhappiness moved to her ribcage and pulsed in time with her heartbeat. The room shimmied again and, as everything around her shrank back to its normal size, she glanced upwards noticing the wood-chip paper on the ceiling, blooming yellow with age and grease. It would all have to go.

They had big plans to remodel the cottage to maximise guest accommodation. The downstairs was to become three single bedrooms with a shared bathroom. The two bedrooms upstairs were a generous size already, so it would be easier to partition them and double the number of rooms. She’d picked the furniture: simple wooden bed frames with good quality mattresses, a small desk or table, a chair, and a lamp in each. For a while, she’d toyed with the idea of painting each room a different colour, but Dan pointed out that they should aim to keep everything neutral and in the end, she’d agreed. She looked in her handbag for her diary, remembering to add blankets to the list of things to buy, but it wasn’t there. She tutted to herself and looked for a piece of paper at the bottom of her bag. After a few moments of rummaging past the cough sweets, tissues, headache tablets, and lip balm, she pulled out a receipt from Waitrose. It was dated 17th September, the day before her 34th birthday. What had she bought? Toothpaste, tiger bread, brie, grapes, Prosecco, and a birthday cake. Her birthday cake.

She quickly wrote ‘blankets’ on the back of the receipt and tucked it back into her bag. It had been a good birthday, overall. Dan had been attentive and thoughtful. She pictured him chopping onions, peppers and garlic, humming along to the radio as he worked. That kitchen had been her triumph in the apartment. She’d had a difficult job persuading him to go with the glossy red lacquered doors and polished concrete worktops, but when it was finished, she knew it gave him as much pleasure as it did her. It would be so out of place here. Just like she was.

Despite its dated decor, Esther was puzzled by how clean the surfaces and cupboards were. She had steeled herself to scrub away years of dust and grime but, except for the years of grease on the ceiling, it looked like someone had beaten her to it. Dan must have arranged for someone to come in. It wasn’t like him to be so thoughtful and she smiled to herself. Perhaps she’d been too hasty to judge his motives over the swimming pool. Maybe he does mean it this time.

Opening the drawer under the sink, she spotted a set of keys on a large metal loop. They were all old, mostly of a mortise type, but there were also three or four smaller brass keys – the kind that might open a desk. She closed the drawer again and pulled open the door to the nearest cupboard. It was empty, but there was a faint smell of bleach.

Dan appeared in the doorway carrying a box marked ‘kitchen.’ ‘Where do you want this?’

She half-resented the inference that the kitchen was her domain, but pointed to the worktop anyway and started to unpack the provisions they’d brought with them. She opened a cupboard and was surprised to see it was stocked with tins of soup, beans, UHT milk, cereal, and jars of pasta sauce. The one next to it contained packets of pasta, rice, tea, coffee and a loaf of bread. Checking the labels, all of the food was in date. Curious, she crossed the room to the fridge and opened it to see it had been filled with milk, cheese, salad items, cold meats, a chicken, chops, mince and some vegetables.

Looking over her shoulder, Dan pointed to the contents of the fridge. ‘What’s this?’

‘Didn’t you organise it with the removal company? There must be a week’s worth of shopping here.’

‘I wish I’d thought of it, but the removal company wasn’t exactly top end.’ A shadow passed over his face and he looked like he wanted to say something else, but was silent.

‘It’s not just the food though. Have you seen how clean the cottage is?’

‘The agent might have organised it for us, I guess. The cleaning at least. The food is a little over the top – unless, of course, they know something we don’t.’

She wasn’t sure if he was joking. Sometimes his deadpan delivery was hard for even her to read. ‘I’m sure they’ll recharge us for it.’

‘I’ll check the contract in the morning.’ Dan turned on the taps and began to wash his hands. ‘I can’t imagine I’d have agreed to that.’

No, I can’t imagine either.

‘The rest of the furniture is here and they’ve put the bed up. There are a load of boxes in the sitting room, along with our kitchen table and chairs.’ Dan nodded over to the pine table in the middle of the kitchen. ‘I think that’ll be the first thing in the skip.’

‘Indeed. This place is a museum to everything that was never hip. It’s not even retro enough to be cool now. You know, it’s very similar to a kitchen we had when I was little. I can picture Mum standing at that stove.’ Esther rubbed at the small of her back. ‘I could really do with a hot soak after that journey. My leg is aching fit to burn. I bet you’re shattered after all that driving.’

‘I’m not so bad just now, but I’ll sleep well tonight. Did I see some towels and bedding in one of the boxes? I’ll need to find the immersion switch if we want hot water tonight. Where did you stash the kettle?’

‘Towels and bedding came up with the removal guys. Kettle’s in the boot of the car. I’ll get it.’

‘No, stay here, I’ll go. It’s getting quite dark out now and you’re bound to trip over.’ Dan shut the door behind him and as he did so, the light overhead flickered and fizzed and the motor in the fridge coughed.

Esther listened to his footsteps echoing down the platform. She opened the fridge again, ignoring the sputtering lights in the cottage, and stared at the contents, trying to decide whether she was hungry enough to make a snack. Without warning, the hairs rose on the back of her neck and she had an acute feeling of being watched. She whipped around and looked out of the kitchen window, half-expecting to see someone looking in. There was no-one there. She laughed at herself, knowing her jitters came from the deep-rooted tiredness inside her.

Dan brought in another box and started to unpack the kettle, some cutlery, a selection of mugs and two plates. Then, with a flourish, he pulled out a bottle of Veuve Cliquot. ‘Ta-da! We have to have it in mugs, but it’ll still taste like a celebration.’

He was like a schoolboy showing off to a captive audience. She liked this version of him – it was a side she’d not seen much of in the last year.

‘Just a drop for me, please. I don’t want Bump hiccupping all night and getting a taste for booze before breast.’

He popped the cork, the way Esther had seen Eric teach him at their engagement party, holding the cork and turning the bottle. She hated being reminded that he was more like his father than she wanted to admit. She pushed the thoughts of Eric away, in case they led to thoughts about her own father. Nothing good ever came from dwelling on him and now wasn’t the right time to raise the subject with Dan.

He poured the Champagne into the mugs and raised his. ‘To our new baby, to our new life, to our new home . . . and to a new us.’

Esther clinked her mug against Dan’s. At the mention of their new home, the ball of unhappiness dislodged from its hiding place behind her ribcage and rose upwards to nudge her heart. It would take a long time for Rosgill to feel like home.

‘Evening.’ A man-monolith stood in the doorway, blocking the fading remains of daylight.

Esther and Dan both jumped, startled. Esther glanced from the stranger to Dan, then back to the doorway. She thought she caught a flash of recognition in Dan’s face and waited for him to speak first.

‘Hi, I’m Dan and this is Esther.’ In what seemed to her to be a flanking manoeuvre, he strode across the kitchen and shook hands with the stranger.

‘Sorry to startle you both. I’m Michael – Mike – O’Rourke. I live up the glen; about two miles north-west. I’m probably your nearest neighbour as the crow flies,’ he said, stooping so as not to bang his head on the lintel.

Dan, who had seemed to have been holding his breath, relaxed. Taking her cue from him, Esther motioned to Mike to sit down, pulling out a chair for him at the pine table. He crossed the kitchen with feline grace, folding his long legs under the table in a fluid movement. He glanced at her leg, the metal pylon plain to see, poking out from under her skirt.

In that moment, Esther could tell what kind of person he was. Over the years, she’d had the whole spectrum of reactions from people. Empathy, sympathy, embarrassment, condescension, curiosity. Almost everyone acted differently once they’d noticed her disability. Some people spoke to Dan instead, while others shuffled from foot to foot, unable to focus on anything except her missing limb. Most of the time it bypassed her as something other people needed to learn to deal with, but the worst people were the ones who wanted to know what had happened to her. Forcing her to relive the accident. No matter how kind their questioning, she was always left feeling sullied, invaded by their ghoulish desire for detail.

Mike’s eyes locked on hers and she saw no judgement, no condescension or sympathy. She knew he saw her for who she was, not as a wounded creature to be cared for or pitied. His eyes were magnetic, drawing her in. She couldn’t decide whether they were hazel or amber, and they seemed to shimmer as he returned her gaze. They were darker in the middle, reminding her of tiger-eye stones, fringed by long, black lashes. His whole expression implied mischief, of his own making, but also as though he was daring her to relive all her rebellions too. His dark hair curled just above his collar, longer on top, and he used both hands to push it back off his face, strong fingers raking through it. Dark stubble contoured his face and he gave off the scent of mountain forests as he moved.

Aware that she was staring, Esther felt heat radiating in her cheeks and, turning her back to them both, filled the kettle with water from the sink. She could see Dan and Mike reflected in the kitchen window and saw Mike reach a hand out towards Dan, before withdrawing it abruptly as the strip-light overhead dimmed and quivered. A tight silence fell over the men at the table.

‘I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you like this? Did you have a good journey up?’ Mike’s soft Irish burr bent his words in the air.

‘Well, it was a long journey, alright. We set off yesterday and stayed in Edinburgh overnight.’ Dan fiddled with his wedding ring as he spoke.

‘You’re not Scottish?’ To her own ears, her question sounded shrill, accusatory.

‘Neither are you.’ He winked. ‘I’m Irish, from County Clare, but I’ve lived a long time here, and other places. And where have you come up from? Bristol, is it?’

Dan reddened and nodded, but said nothing.

How could he know that? Esther couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was out of kilter between the two men. She felt almost as though she was intruding onto a conversation that started some time ago. ‘Have you two met each other before?’

Dan and Mike spoke at the same time.

‘No.’ Dan was emphatic.

‘Yes.’ Mike nodded.

Esther stood, hands on hips. ‘Well, which is it?’

‘I saw yer man up here when he was after looking to buy the place.’ Mike’s explanation seemed to trigger Dan’s memory.

‘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.