Chapter 41
41
I fiddle with my bag on my lap as the plane begins its approach along the runway.
I close my eyes and try to find the words I need to say to convince him that he is the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and as we take to the air, I finally find them.
The sun is shining as I exit the airport; there is a noticeable drop in the temperature and the wind holds more bite to it. I shift my bag on my shoulder, pull out my sunglasses and walk as fast as I can to the taxi rank, asking for the train station and only just making it to the platform on time.
I stare through the windows as the train clacks along the tracks. It’s been over an hour already, the houses and townscapes dwindling the further north I go.
Outside is heavenly: rich grass, mountains and space. Well, he did say he needed it and there is nothing but space here, miles and miles of it. My thoughts roam along the mountains and hills, the vast stretch of sky.
I think about what has happened to me over the past week, that week that seemed so normal to me when I lived it in 2016. I’ve asked myself over and over how it happened, why it happened, how I missed the signs of Kit gambling, but the thing is, our life is made up of thousands of days where nothing seems to really happen: breakfast, work, dinner; conversations with friends, with family; day trips to the beach. It all passes us by so quickly, just like the houses sliding from view outside the window of this train, just like those everyday ‘days’ that mould into one. But in each of those everydays are the people around us. And it’s in the people we choose to spend our time with that make the everydays special. I wonder how many everydays with James I took for granted.
The train continues, people getting off and on, all experiencing their own everydays.
I try to read my Kindle but the nervous energy pulsing through me means I read the same line four times. I put it back in my bag, lean my head back against the head rest and close my eyes, trying to think of all the things I want to say to him.
What if he says no? What if Kit is wrong? What if I’m wrong and he really did only stay with me because he felt some kind of obligation? What if he’s nowhere near the bloody Highlands of Scotland?
The train stops. A mum boards with shopping bags filled with all the trappings that mean a return to school after the Easter holidays. The children sit at my table and she squeezes in next to me with an ‘I can’t wait for the term to start’ roll of her eyes. The two girls bicker and snatch each other’s snacks.
‘Where you headed?’ she begins, her accent thick.
‘Gladspay?’
‘Och, you’ll need your thermals once you get there. You visiting family? Friends?’
‘Yeah. My fiancé actually.’ I smile but feel a dull ache of sadness; I should be saying husband by now .
I open my bag, unfolding the map Alan had found. I had told him I’d be fine with Google Maps, but he’d been sceptical about me getting signal that far out in the wilderness. There is a red circle around Connor’s house vivid against the grey images, and I lay it flat on the table. ‘I need to get here?’
She lets out a low whistle. ‘That’s a fair wee trek and taxis are hard to find that end of the track.’
Shit. I can feel the blood drain from my face. ‘Ah you’ll be fine though, eh? The good news is the weather is set to be dry and you look fit as a fiddle.’
I swallow down the bite of fear. The idea of walking across the Highlands with only a map, and a bag packed while my mind was on other things, is terrifying.
But I can do it. I know I can do it. I have to do it.
I say my goodbyes as she leaves, laden with plastic bags and children high on strawberry laces, with sugar around their mouths.
I disembark half an hour later, the air even colder as I stand on the platform and look around the station. It’s small and old-fashioned, like something out of The Railway Children .
The sun is high in the sky, but the wind rattles through the eaves, kicking up dust and an empty crisp packet.
I follow the only other passenger along the platform, across the bridge, my eyes scanning left and right hopefully, in search of a taxi. I pull out my phone, looking for a local taxi firm to call but I have absolutely no signal, not even a flicker of a bar. Alan was right.
I cross the road, heading towards a small corner shop. A man in overalls is taking down the remains of an Easter display. The bell rings as I step inside. I walk to the counter, grabbing a flapjack and a bottle of water.
The overall man smiles up and walks behind the counter. He says something to me. I have absolutely no idea what, his accent is so thick. He takes in my perplexed gaze.
‘You’ll be wanting a bag?’ he repeats, slower this time.
‘Oh, no… thanks.’ He rings up the till. Cash only. It’s like I’ve stepped back in time. Again.
‘I… I was wondering if you could help me? I need to get here?’ He leans over, dark hair escaping his ponytail and lets out a low whistle. ‘It isnae too hard to find, but you’ll want your walking legs on. It’s a fair wee trek from here.’
‘Is there a taxi I can call?’
‘Well, there is old Bill, but he’s a bit hit and miss and it’ll take him a while to get here.’
I swallow. For the first time, I’m missing 2016 me with her younger legs and cardio fitness. Bloody custard creams and James’s cooking. The man talks slowly as he fingers along the route, telling me what to look out for, to help me head in the right direction. There is a rack with some protective gear on it; I grab a pair of thermal gloves and a scarf, digging into my purse for some long-forgotten cash. Then I set off.
The gravel path starts off gradual enough, but there is a pull in my calf muscles as the incline hits. I have to pause often to catch my breath, to check the map.
Wilderness and beauty surround me. I picture James walking this route, his heart heavy with regret.
After the first hour, my heart is beating rapidly, my back sore from the straps of my bag.
I spot a rundown shed. The man in the shop told me to look out for it to signpost I am on the right track. I drain the last of the water, zip up, put my gloves on, wrapping the scarf tightly around my neck despite the sweat running down my spine.
‘What am I doing?’ I say, looking up. The sun is dropping quickly in the sky, like it’s leaded. This is crazy; he might not even be here.
I push on through the burning in my legs, through the tightness in my throat, thinking of James as I walk. The way he hides behind a cushion when we watch a horror film; how he never kills spiders, just cups them under a glass and sets them free; the look on his face as I open my eyes first thing in the morning, the love there; the sound of his laugh, how it changes his whole face; the feel of his arms around my shoulders; the way he adjusts the pictures on the wall when I hadn’t even noticed they were wonky. The hurt in his eyes when he talked about his childhood. The heat between our legs that night in the wine bar, the pulsing attraction that both of us fought.
The trail splits in two. A sound like thunder ricochets through the sky. I cover my eyes against the sun. Three fighter jets whoosh overhead. I grin up. It’s like a sign from Kit. I practically hear him singing ‘Highway to the Danger Zone’. I check the map again, heading downhill. In the distance, the farmhouse comes into view, another building sitting further up from it.
My face stretches into a smile. I’m almost there.