‘Oh God!’ I cry.
‘Fucking hell, Carly.’ We gaze down at the broken glass and the fizzling lake we’re standing in. ‘Champagne?’ He grimaces.
I nod. ‘Yes, champagne.’
‘Jesus.’ Then: ‘You were taking it to the cabin?’
For a moment I absorb what he’s just said. ‘Yes, Frank. I was taking champagne to the cabin.’ He gives me an inscrutable look, and then stoops to pick up the biggest pieces of broken glass. I try to reassemble the hamper as best as I can, and then sweep up the glassy splinters and mop the hall floor. As he stands there, watching me, I think:I’m really not sure anymore.
The ice cream shop and bakery and food truck all made me angry, at the time.
But I still loved Frank. There was never any doubt about that.
I take the dripping mop back to the kitchen and wash my hands. Then we head out to my car with Frank carrying the hamper.
‘Was it a problem, me taking champagne?’ I ask as he places it on the back seat.
‘Of course not.’ A pause, then: ‘But it does seem like quite a lot.’
I look at him, realising it’s not just Frank who clearly feels differently now.
It’s me too. Something has clicked in me, deep in my gut.
‘Well, I’m not taking it anymore, am I?’ I say. Then I climb into my car and drive away.
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 myright 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. Iemerge, 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 Icarry 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 isageing 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’msomewhere.
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.’
