Chapter Nineteen
At first, as I head north, I can’t help wondering if I’ve made a terrible mistake in accepting Suki’s invitation. But then, if I’d stayed at home how would the weekend be? I really need some space away from Frank. Perhaps he’s relieved, too, that I’ll be out of his hair for a couple of days.
Dusk is falling and a bright moon shines above, triggering something in me. It’s a flicker of excitement, sparking through my body now. I spot them then, silhouetted against the darkening sky: starlings swooping in a glorious cloud, back and forth, just for fun. I smile, reminding myself that this is exactly what I’ve needed. To do something spontaneous, just for myself.
It’s properly dark as the satnav tells me to come off at the next junction. I drive through a sleepy village where the whitewashed pub and a cluster of single-storey cottages look so cosy and inviting. Now the winding road leads me away from the village and high up into the hills. To my right the land scoops down towards a loch, illuminated by moonlight in a clear night sky. In the distance there’s a castle, perched on a mound, silhouetted against the gleaming water. It’s a ruin, the kind Eddie loved as a kid – the crumblier the better, as far as he was concerned. He and Bella and Ana would run wild, shrieking that the castle was under attack, and they’d defend it with imaginary bows and arrows.
As children the three kids got along extremely well: a little gang, usually organised by Bella even though she was the middle child. But as they grew older Eddie seemed to pull away from his sisters, and no coaxing on their part could persuade him to join in with their games. ‘Why won’t Eddie play with us anymore?’ Ana asked me on holiday once, looking hurt.
‘He’s maybe just a bit too old now,’ I said, aware of a pang of sadness. I wondered if it was a gender thing, and that he felt left out with his sisters sharing a bedroom, doing virtually everything together. Soon the girls stopped asking and left Eddie to do his own thing.
The road has narrowed now, and as it twists and turns sharply, my confidence starts to ebb away. What was I thinking, coming here? Is the hamper acceptable or will they notice that the cheeses are a little dented from the ‘incident’ back at home? What will they make of a librarian who buys ninety per cent of her clothes second-hand? Not to mention the fact that Suki thinks Lyla and Eddie are madly in love! Although I hate to admit it to myself, perhaps Frank was right to be dubious about me coming up here.
The road takes me through a thick, dense forest. I emerge, high above the valley, then plunge down again, braking suddenly as a deer appears on the road. It stops and looks at me, then canters away, long-limbed and graceful, into the woods. I pass a hand-painted sign at the roadside. It reads ‘Red Squirrel Watch’, which reassures me a little. Hopefully, this weekend will be all about being in nature, rather than discussing Eddie and Lyla’s loving relationship that doesn’t even exist.
And now, as I round a bend, the satnav tells me I’ve reached my destination. But there’s nothing here on the narrow lane, bordered on both sides by thick pine forests. Briefly, I pull up at the roadside to check Suki’s last message. Glenfail Cabins, the place is called. Although she sent directions, I have no signal now and Google Maps won’t work. Plus, my phone’s down to seven per cent. In my haste to leave earlier I’d forgotten to charge it. And now I’m cursing myself as the road seems to lead me deeper into the forest, in the dark.
I pull over again and look around for anything that might count as a landmark. There are only trees, forming a bank of darkness with the road cutting through. An owl hoots and light rain is spattering my windscreen. I check the time: almost eight. I’m running late already. Suki was expecting me at around half-seven. I climb out of my car and try Google Maps again. No luck there – but at least now there’s one bar of signal. I don’t want to call Suki for directions. What I really want is to spirit myself back home, where I’ll learn to accept that Kilmory Cottage feels horribly empty now, and somehow figure out how to live with it.
That’s okay, I decide. I’ll adjust, but if Frank and I carry on like this, who knows? Perhaps it was only the kids who were holding us together, throughout our ups and downs and financial disasters. And now they’re gone, there’s nothing left.
Prish left her husband after the last of their kids had moved out. ‘My second act,’ she called it – just like it says in the book. She took up running, and has chalked up three marathons and seems to have shed a decade from her face; she is ageing in reverse. And what have I done? Driven north for two and a half hours and got myself lost in the woods!
I look around wildly for something to pin my location on. And then I spot it, through the steady rain. A wooden gate to what looks like a farm. I stride towards it while calling Suki, relieved that the farm has a name, so at least I’m somewhere .
She answers straight away. ‘Thornyhill Farm? Oh, you’re so near us! Sorry you got lost, Carly. I should’ve sent clearer directions …’
‘No, it’s my fault,’ I say. ‘I really am hopeless at finding places, even with satnav …’ Frank has always been the one who knows the way, I reflect with a twang of shame. And I make a mental note to be self-sufficient from now on – to not need him for anything as Suki says, ‘Hang on, Carly …’ Then, to someone else: ‘She’s down that forestry lane, the one just past the phone box in the village, you know?’ It’s a male voice that seems to respond. ‘Yes, okay ,’ Suki says impatiently. ‘I’m trying to explain. She’s taken a wrong turn …’
‘Suki?’ I start. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll set off again now. I’m sure I’ll find you—’
‘No, just wait there,’ she insists. ‘Stay where you are. He’s coming to get you now.’
‘Er … who is?’
‘Oh, I should have said. Sorry! It’s my brother, Oliver.’ So not a girls’ weekend after all? ‘He gatecrashed,’ she adds, lowering her voice. The sound quality has changed, as if she’s stepped outdoors. ‘He has stuff going on. But it’ll be fine, I promise …’
‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ I start.
‘Absolutely. He’ll be with you in ten minutes so sit tight.’
So I wait as rain spatters my windscreen. And when a Land Rover pulls up I spring out of my car like a dog being released for a walk. ‘Thank you!’ I exclaim, bounding over to the driver’s side window.
Suki’s brother seems to pause before lowering it. It feels like a reprimand; a light tap on the wrist. ‘You must be Oliver? I’m Carly. Honestly, I thought I knew where I was, but then it all went wrong and I lost signal …’
‘No problem,’ he remarks in a tone that says, It actually is. I take in the cool blue eyes behind black-framed spectacles, and the resigned expression. He is regarding me like a beleaguered teacher dispatched to round up an escapee on a school trip.
‘Anyway, sorry,’ I bluster, pushing back my damp hair. ‘And thank you.’
Oliver nods. ‘Let’s get going, shall we?’ The window closes, and I scamper to my car and we set off.
As I follow, Oliver makes no concession for the fact that I don’t know the roads around here. It takes intense focus to keep him in sight as the Land Rover whips around corners and bumps along narrow lanes. By the time he slows down, and a scattering of golden lights comes into view, I have already decided that coming here was lunacy on my part. I only said yes because Frank assumed I wouldn’t come, and Dad was mad about the pies. ‘I’ll show them!’ I decided. Show them what , exactly? They’ll barely notice I’ve gone.
Oliver turns into a clearing where several A-framed log cabins are clustered at the edge of the woods. All is quiet and still as we park and climb out. ‘Thank you so much,’ I gush again as I lift my bag and the hamper from the back seat.
‘Here, I’ll take that,’ Oliver says, and I hand the hamper to him.
‘Thanks.’ As we make our way towards the cabins I glance at this tall and slim, rather stern and reserved-looking man. It’s hard to reconcile that he and Suki are brother and sister. Physically, there are clear similarities: the fine features, the clear blue eyes and rangy build. But of course there’s no reason why he’d be all bubbly and gregarious, all ‘Let’s have champagne!’ like his sister.
‘What an amazing place,’ I announce.
‘It is, yeah,’ Oliver agrees. The cabins are all uniquely beautiful, each decking area immaculate with potted shrubs and hanging bird feeders. Some are occupied, their lights glowing invitingly. Strings of lamps, placed high up in the trees, bathe the settlement in a pool of golden light. Now the rain has stopped and the heady scent of pines pervades the cool night air.
‘D’you come up here a lot?’ I ask.
‘Not really.’ No further information supplied. He’s probably just arrived, I tell myself. The last thing he wanted was to be dispatched to rescue some woman he doesn’t even know, and then be expected to make small talk. However, walking together in silence feels awkward, so I plough on.
‘So, whereabouts are you from?’
‘Gloucestershire,’ he replies.
‘Oh yes, of course. Suki told me …’
‘But I’m in the process of moving,’ he adds vaguely, and I stop myself from asking where from, and where to. Because clearly, he’s interested only in ferrying me to Suki’s cabin; job done. ‘That’s the one,’ he adds, indicating a cabin set a little away from the others, tucked into the woods.
‘It’s beautiful!’ I gush, and now Suki has appeared on decking strewn with twinkling fairy lights.
‘You made it! Hi!’ The grin lights up her face as she hugs me, and Oliver and I follow her into the cabin.
‘Yes, finally. I’m so sorry about getting lost. And thanks, Oliver,’ I reiterate as he places the hamper on the counter top.
‘Ooh, what’s that?’ Suki asks.
‘Only a few things I brought …’
‘You needn’t have. You are lovely.’ She unbuckles the hamper’s leather straps and gasps in delight at the selection of wines and cheeses and chocolates as if everything is box-fresh. ‘How lovely! You’re so kind.’
‘Honestly, it’s nothing …’ I look around the cabin’s spacious open-plan living area. A squashy pale grey sofa and comfy chairs, strewn with fluffy sheepskin throws, are arranged around a flickering wood-burning stove. The sleek kitchen has an island unit with chrome stools neatly lined up. At the large window, looking out onto the clearing, a rustic oak table is set for dinner.
‘This is gorgeous,’ I announce.
‘Thank you.’ She beams.
‘How long have you had this place?’
‘Couple of years now. Little present to myself. I do love it. I’ve tried to make it a little sanctuary.’
‘Oh, you’ve done that.’ I smile, soothed now by the wood burner’s orangey glow, and the fact that Oliver has disappeared, presumably to his room. Just forget about how weird this all is, I tell myself. Forget about what it is that’s brought you together.
‘Let me show you your room,’ she says, leading me off the main space and into a short corridor. She indicates the various doors: ‘Oliver’s in there. Dinah’s there. She and I are sharing …’
‘Dinah?’
‘My friend.’ She drops her voice to a murmur. ‘Having a nap, I think. Amazing person. Pretty intense. Can’t wait for you to meet her. Anyway,’ she adds, ‘bathroom’s at the end there, and this is yours …’ She opens a door into a compact but cosy single room and follows me in.
‘This is lovely!’ I say.
‘Sorry it’s not en suite,’ she adds, as if I’d mind.
‘Honestly, it really is lovely. Thanks so much for inviting me.’
She smiles, but tension flickers around her blue eyes as she gently closes the bedroom door. ‘I’m just happy you could come. And I’m glad you like it. We can do walks or go for drives, if you like? I can show you around the area tomorrow …’
‘Great,’ I enthuse.
She seems to hesitate before going on. ‘Honestly, I’m so glad you’re here, Carly. I can’t tell you.’
I look at her quizzically. ‘Why, is everything—’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she says quickly. ‘It’s just, this isn’t exactly Dinah’s thing. Being stuck out in the country, I mean. She likes being near – you know. Facilities. Goes all funny if she’s outside a five-mile radius of a branch of Cos …’
I splutter. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Yes, exactly. And then I thought, Carly! She’s easy-going and friendly. You know how it is, with a group?’ she goes on. ‘How people balance each other out?’
‘Er, yes,’ I say, still not quite grasping the situation here.
‘… And I invited Oliver because he’s had a tough time lately, since the break-up. Wife-left-him ,’ she mouths.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ I say, and she grimaces.
‘Making it all sound rather grim, aren’t I?’
‘Not at all!’ It sounds like loads of fun, absolutely …
‘Anyway, everything’s going to be okay. It’ll be great,’ she says brightly. With that – and a sudden, ‘I’ll get supper started!’ – she breezes out.
I start to unpack, still reeling from the flurry of information. So Suki thinks I’ll somehow ‘balance things out’ between two guests who, I gather, don’t want to be here? Seeing that my phone has died, I plug it in and perch on the bed, waiting for it to come back to life, and hoping that Frank might have messaged to check I arrived safely. But there’s nothing. So I get up and take in the view of the velvety night sky, filled with glittering stars. The only sound is a faint rustle of wind through the trees. Then there’s movement from the main room, and a woman – presumably Dinah – pipes up: ‘So, is she here, finally?’
‘ Yes ,’ Suki says, her agitation palpable.
‘Well, I don’t know how I’m going to sleep a wink having dinner so late …’
So late? How old is she – six?
‘It’s not that late,’ Suki reasons. ‘Only a quarter to nine. And we’re just about ready, if you could grab some glasses please, Dinah …’
Keen not to delay things further, I quickly check my face in the oval wall mirror and tug my brush through my hair. Then, trying to rally myself, as I do whenever I climb those stairs to Dad’s flat, I take a deep, fortifying breath and stride through to join the jolly gang for dinner.