Chapter Ten
The cabin, which less than an hour earlier I’d been certain I would never see again, came into view. The lights had been glowing yellow, warm and inviting, when I’d driven away, but the building was now in total darkness.
‘Fuck,’ Josh muttered. His language was way more colourful than I remembered. ‘The power has gone out.’ He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I swear I’d forgotten about until that moment. ‘I’m not surprised the lines are down; it happens all the time out here.’
That definitely wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Being stuck in a darkened cabin in the middle of the woods sounded horribly like the plot of a low-budget horror film.
Josh swung the Land Rover into a sweeping arc, bringing it to a stop not far from the unlit cabin. We both stared at the single-storey building through the headlights’ beams. The roof had already disappeared beneath a thick blanket of snow, which seemed to be growing ever deeper as we sat there.
‘We’ll be alright here though, won’t we? Without electricity, I mean? We’re not going to freeze to death, or anything?’ I tagged a small laugh on to the question, but it sounded more terrified than amused.
Josh’s lips twisted wryly. ‘We’re in the middle of a forest full of trees. I think we’ll manage to find something we can burn to keep warm.’
The only thing burning right then was my face, but thankfully, with the power out, Josh couldn’t see that.
Land Rovers are sturdy, built for rough conditions, but Josh’s was rocking like a fairground ride as the wind buffeted it.
‘It’s getting pretty wild out there,’ Josh said. ‘Are you ready to make a run for it?’
I nodded, peering through the darkness at the swirling snow and flying foliage ripped from the trees.
‘Take this,’ he said, extracting a torch from the compartment in his door. I took it from him, but before he got out, I leant across the centre console and lightly touched his forearm. ‘I really am grateful to you for coming after us, Josh. Thank you.’
‘I bet that hurt,’ he muttered. But I’d seen the expression on his face when my hand rested fleetingly on his arm. There’d been no mistaking it; my touch had caused him genuine pain. It was a disturbing realisation that would probably circle around in my thoughts for hours.
‘Wait here,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll come round and let you out.’
I wasn’t sure why he thought I needed assistance, until he stood beside the car, wrestling with the wind to open the door. The moment I stepped out of the Land Rover the storm tried to shove me back against it. Icy crystals of snow that felt like a thousand tiny knives struck my face. My attention was so focused on staying upright, I scarcely noticed when Josh’s arm clamped around my waist like a vice. It felt very different from my teenage memories, when his arm had nestled there in a gesture of friendship. This was purely a necessity to get me from A to B, and I was grateful for the way he shielded my body with his as we battled forward, practically bent double as we covered the distance from car to cabin.
Josh flung open the door to his home and firmly propelled me through it, along with a cloud of swirling snow. Fletcher was a black and white blur as he sped past my legs and disappeared into the shadows. In the pitch-black hallway my eyes were slow to adjust. I felt vulnerable and a little afraid as I heard the storm battering the timber-framed building, as though we’d somehow enraged it by escaping from its clutches. An unfortunate visual of the airborne house in The Wizard of Oz popped into my head and refused to leave.
My frozen fingers fumbled for the switch on the torch. I felt marginally better once its watery yellow beam sliced through the darkness.
‘Turn left and head towards the kitchen,’ Josh instructed, placing a guiding hand in the small of my back. It fell away as soon as we entered the only room in the cabin that felt vaguely familiar.
The kitchen still felt warm and cosy, and a wood-burning stove in the far corner of the room provided both heat and a dim red glow of light. Both drew me in like a magnet, and I held my hands towards the stove, waiting for the feeling to return to my chilled fingers. Behind a glass door the flames danced, making the rings on my left hand glint in the flickering light. It was a reminder of the man who’d brought me to this place today.
‘You’re absolutely sure you’re not hurt?’ Josh asked, sweeping his torch beam over me again.
I shook my head, deciding not to mention the vague ache on my temple or the stiffness of my shoulder. ‘Just shaken up, that’s all.’
In response he dragged a chair from the table and positioned it beside the stove with a meaningful nod.
‘Sit,’ he said, with enough emphasis that Fletcher, who’d just padded into the kitchen, promptly did so at his feet. I felt a frisson of annoyance at my pet’s betrayal.
When I made no move towards the chair, Josh glared angrily at me. I glared right back.
He drew in a breath as though reining in something that was about to get away from him. ‘Lily, you’ve just been in an accident, you could keel over from shock at any minute. So will you Just – Sit – Down .’
I’m not sure if it was the realisation that I was being deliberately difficult or the muscle that was twitching beside Josh’s eye that made me move to the chair and lower myself on to it.
‘Well, seeing as you asked so nicely,’ I said, my voice deceptively sweet.
He sighed heavily, as though a battle had just begun, and he had no idea if he’d won or lost the first foray.
Fletcher, who was still beside Josh, butted his knee for attention and Josh reached down and stroked his head. I watched the interaction in fascination for several seconds. They say dogs are excellent judges of character, but I wasn’t prepared to believe my pet knew better than me.
‘You’ve got a good dog,’ Josh observed, scratching that spot between Fletcher’s ears that was guaranteed to make him adore you for life. Of all the things he’d said to me so far, that one sounded more like a natural ‘Old Josh’ comment than anything else.
‘I’ve got a great dog,’ I corrected, and then paused for a moment before adding, ‘I don’t know how I’d have got through this last year without him.’
Josh had stood his torch upright on the table, creating a room full of shadows, and suddenly I could feel Adam’s presence among them.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and looked for a change of subject. ‘So, how long does it normally take before the electricity comes back on?’
Josh shrugged with a nonchalance I was far from feeling. ‘It won’t be today, that’s for sure. The longest we’ve ever been off-grid was five days.’
I gulped audibly. ‘Is there someone we can call to find out?’
Josh leant back against the countertop, waiting for me to work out exactly what was wrong with that question.
‘Ahh . . . Shit. There’s no phone signal either, is there? Or internet? Bugger it.’ A couple of hours in Josh’s company and my vocabulary was already earthier than usual. If I had to spend five days with him, I’d be swearing like a marine at the end of it.
Five days. The thought was sobering and frankly terrifying.
‘You don’t have a back-up means of communication? A CB radio . . . or a carrier pigeon?’
‘’Fraid not. We’re just going to have to wait it out.’
The prospect of spending so much time in his company would once have been my idea of Heaven, but now it felt like a stay in a considerably hotter location.
‘Does anyone know you were coming here?’ Josh asked.
I shook my head in the gloomily lit kitchen.
‘So, there’s no one waiting for you to contact them? No one who’ll worry about you when you don’t?’
I lifted my head and met his gaze. ‘You do realise those sound like serial killer questions.’
Josh laughed and then looked almost surprised at the sound, as though he hadn’t heard it for quite a while. I felt my own lips twitch in response.
‘What about your parents?’
‘They’re away visiting my dad’s sister.’
‘The one in Brisbane?’
‘How on earth did you remember that?’
He turned his face away, but not before I’d seen something unfathomable scud across his features. ‘Sometimes stupid stuff sticks in your head . . . whether you want it to or not.’
Fifteen minutes later I was cradling a cup of hot, sweet tea in a kitchen that was now glowing in the light of two storm lanterns. If you had to be stranded somewhere, it helped to discover the man you were with could probably give Bear Grylls a run for his money. Josh had disappeared to his workshop and returned with the lanterns, and a huge enamel kettle that he’d placed on top of the wood burner.
‘It’s a good back-up for whenever we lose power,’ he’d told me as he spooned way more sugar than I took into my mug. ‘It’s for the shock,’ he’d added when he saw my raised eyebrows.
‘And do you have something for the diabetic coma I’ll be slipping into afterwards?’ I’d smiled at my own joke, and the way it broke out a reluctant glimmer of a smile on his face. It was good to know that the old cut and thrust of our humour wasn’t entirely lost.
As I drained my mug I wondered if it was too soon to ask him again why Adam had sent me to see him, but my plan was derailed as Josh got to his feet and reached for his jacket.
‘Are we going back out again?’ I asked. The storm had lost none of its strength; if anything it was battering the cabin even more ferociously than before.
‘ You’re not. I am,’ Josh replied, yanking up his zipper with a decisive tug.
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘To see if I can drag your car out of that ditch before it gets totally buried beneath a snowdrift.’
‘Then I’ll come with you,’ I said, starting to get to my feet. His hand felt firm when it came down on my shoulder and prevented me from rising. ‘No. It’s better if you stay here. That way I only have one of us to worry about.’
Panic flooded through me, and I didn’t know if it was born from fear of being left alone, or fear of him going out into the storm. Probably a bit of both.
‘Hey, I’ve an idea. Why don’t we both stay here, and then you don’t have to worry about either of us.’
Josh shook his head, and there was a look that novelists like to call ‘steely determination’ on his face, but in real life it’s better known as sheer stubbornness.
‘If we don’t get your car out of that ditch today, I’m not sure I’ll be able to haul it out with the Land Rover, which means you’re likely to be stuck here for even longer. And I’m pretty sure neither of us wants that to happen.’
A knot twisted in my stomach. Did Josh really want me gone so badly he was willing to risk his own safety to ensure I wouldn’t be here for a single moment longer than I had to be?
‘Even if you do manage to drag it out, you can’t drive two cars back here,’ I reasoned. ‘Surely it makes sense for me to come too?’
‘No disrespect, but I’ve just seen your icy weather driving skills. I think both you and your car are safer if we wait until the storm dies down before bringing it back here.’
I hated that he had so many ready – and unfortunately reasonable – arguments to back up his plan. Even more, I hated the danger he was putting himself in. I’d seen that huge oak come crashing down out of nowhere. No one, however much they resembled a TV survivalist, would be able to get out of the path of something like that.
Josh was pulling a woollen beanie from his pocket, obviously believing he’d convinced me to drop my protests. But I couldn’t.
‘What happens if you don’t come back?’
A frown crossed his features. ‘Stay here until your mobile service is reconnected and then call for help. You’ll be perfectly safe here at the cabin if I’m . . . delayed.’
His eyes met mine. I think we both knew ‘delayed’ wasn’t what I was worrying about.
Josh headed towards the hallway, looking genuinely surprised to find me still at his heels. Through a window beside the front door, we both surveyed the storm. The snow was now so thick on the ground I wondered if his car would even be able to make it out of the clearing.
With one hand on the latch, he turned to me. ‘Just stay inside the cabin. It’s built far enough away from the surrounding trees to be perfectly safe if any of them should come down.’
I shook my head, knowing the same couldn’t be said for the place where my car had been abandoned.
‘I’ll be back in about an hour. If you get bored you could check out the larder for something we could heat up on the wood burner for dinner.’
I bristled at the cliché of being the little woman staying out of danger, preparing a meal, while the ‘hero’ went out to do battle – albeit only with the elements. But in truth, what did I know about hauling a car out of a ditch? Absolutely nothing.
‘Can you please try not to end up dead?’ I said, which had sounded a little less concerned in my head than it did when it came out of my mouth.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Josh said, and then without another word he opened the door, letting in a flurry of snow, and slipped out into the storm.
Josh’s larder reminded me of ones I’d seen in films, where a crazy survivalist reveals they’re ready for the end of the world. Josh didn’t have quite enough canned goods to see him through Armageddon, but he could easily ride out a pandemic or two. I was bemused by an entire shelf of tinned tomatoes, but the one beneath it – filled with cans of creamed rice – made far more sense. As a teenager it had been his favourite dessert, and it was oddly comforting to know that while Josh had changed in a thousand different ways, his taste in puddings had remained the same.
Despite the distraction of the storm, an old memory I really didn’t want to revisit elbowed its way into my thoughts.
It was the hottest day of the year, in the middle of the school holidays, and Josh and I had climbed the sycamore to escape the heat in its leafy boughs. We were eating ice creams he’d filched from Janette’s freezer, which were melting faster than we could demolish them. ‘You’re dribbling,’ Josh said, polishing off the last bite of his cone. He leant closer, and with his finger scooped up a line of escaping ice cream from my chin. And suddenly the air froze on that impossibly hot day. I wasn’t able to breathe, and my heart was pounding so loudly I could no longer hear the buzz of bees or the sound of birds. All I could see, feel or hear was Josh, as he remained inches from my face, his gaze focused on my lips. Then, from what felt like another planet, we heard someone come into the garden and the spell fractured and then broke when he took his sticky finger and smeared the spilt ice cream all over my nose. But even as we laughed and I tried to retaliate, there was still a shadow of something lingering in his eyes that I’d never seen before.