Still shaking, I weakly cover his hand with mine as I nod.
He jerks his hand away and stands, backing up two paces before turning and dropping into a crouching position, holding his head in his hands.
I’m still too shocked to speak and my teeth are chattering violently.
‘Fuck!’ I hear Ash shout at the ground. He bolts upright and turns around to face me again. ‘Can you stand?’ His tone has grown sharp again.
I try to sit. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me – exhaustion, shock, the stress of trying to find him, his unwelcoming reception – whatever it is, I feel weak, as though I have no control over my body.
He bends down and helps me to my feet, but the second he tries to let me go, I wobble and he steadies me again.
Maybe he thinks I’m putting it on to get attention – I’m not.
‘I just need to sit awhile,’ I tell him feebly, but before I can sink back down again, he swings me up into his arms and carries me like a baby back into the woods.
I can’t even find the strength to loop my arms around his neck, but he’s warm and it helps subdue my shivering.
He takes me straight to his cabin, kicking the door back as he manoeuvres us through the narrow opening. It smells of log fires and coffee in here – that’s all I’m capable of noticing until I find myself in a small wood-panelled bathroom that still carries the scent of the pine it was crafted from. There’s a white enamel toilet and a matching hand basin, plus a towel rail with a dove-grey towel hanging on it, and in one corner an unenclosed shower. Ash places me down justoutside it and turns on the tap. Water comes spilling out of the large round showerhead onto his hand.
‘It’s not that warm, but it’s warmer than the river,’ he mutters after a moment. ‘Can you manage to get undressed?’ He meets my gaze briefly before looking away again.
All the light has gone from his eyes.
Where are you, Ash?
I nod and step forward into the shower, fully clothed. I’m wet anyway.
He’s still standing behind me, I can sense him. I place my hand against the wall so I don’t faint again.
‘I’ll get you a towel and some dry clothes,’ he says roughly.
A moment later, I hear the sound of the door clicking shut.
The water isa lotwarmer than the river. If it was any warmer, it would probably feel too hot after the cold I’ve just endured.
With difficulty I take off my wet clothes. Noticing some soap on a shelf, I use it to get myself clean before shutting off the water and cracking open the door to find a towel and a pile of clothes on the floor outside the bathroom.
If it weren’t for the Y-front design, I’d think that Ash owned a pair of grey yoga pants, but they’re surprisingly not too baggy. I pull the oversized long-sleeved black T-shirt over my head, forgoing my wet bra and knickers. He’s given me a pair of thick green socks, so I pull those on too and, leaving my hair wrapped up in the towel, exit the bathroom.
There’s another room opposite and through the open door I can see an almost wall-to-wall double bed covered with a dusky-green bedspread. The top of the mattress lines up withthe bottom of a big picture window facing the woods, and the whole space is flooded with natural light.
I carry on and come out into a small open-plan kitchen and living space. On my left is a stainless-steel sink sunk into a chunky wooden L-shaped counter, charcoal-grey cupboards and an electric oven with four hobs, upon one of which sits a kettle. Another, smaller, window looks out onto the same aspect as the bedroom.
On my immediate right is a square table with two bench seats built into the walls perpendicular to each other, then there’s a log burner, already lit with a roaring fire, and further along, two creamy-yellow leather butterfly chairs. They’re designer – Bonet, Kurchan and Ferrari – and they sit on a thick grey rug facing a wooden coffee table and the four large windows that I saw from the outside.
The walls are filled with bookshelves and many of the spines are familiar to me from two years ago.
The place is simple, clean and uncluttered and so much more stylish than the ranger’s cabin.
There are no other rooms and I’m at a bit of a loss as to where Ash is.
I’m still feeling cold and shaky, so I go and kneel on the rug in front of the fire. Over on the hob, the kettle begins to boil. I’m about to get up to turn it off when Ash comes in through the door and kicks off his unlaced boots. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he goes to the hob, but he looks harassed. His hair is still damp, as is his green T-shirt, which he was wearing when he dragged me out of the river.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
I’ve sobered up after my earlier high.
He acts as though he hasn’t heard.
