It was a crisp autumn day, the berried hedgerows shivering just a little in the breeze. They headed for Dartmoor, driving along one winding lane after anotherand soon she spotted a tiny sign for Princetown, the only one she’d seen so far. After they’d passed the farms and forests and reached the wilder, emptier slopes, he pulled up at the side of the road. She got out and looked around her, walking a little way from him and feeling an unexpected lightness in her step. The bracken had already turned orange and brown but the contrast of that with the wide and incredibly bright blue sky made the air shimmer. The vibrant colours and the feeling of space so joyous she felt her whole body relax. She reached out her arms to the sky and stretched.
‘See what I mean,’ he said, watching her. ‘I always come here when I don’t know which way to turn.’
‘About B—’
But she didn’t finish because he grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, we need to walk.’
And they walked, crushing the bracken underfoot.
‘There are so many secrets here,’ he said, raising his arm and sweeping it across the expanse of land and sky. ‘Stone circles, standing stones, the remains of medieval settlements. Wonderful, isn’t it?’
She nodded and pointed at what looked like a granite cross.
‘Lots of those. I like to think of the people who lived, died, or passed through this landscape. And to know that nothing much has changed since prehistoric times.’
He sighed in the pause that followed.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just … well I hope we never lose our wild places. I mean in nature, of course.’
Florence narrowed her eyes in thought. ‘But I sometimes want to feel wild inside too,’ she said. ‘Don’t you?’
Jack nodded. ‘Yes, although it can be dangerous.’
‘Out here? Or inside?’
‘Probably both.’ He gave her a wry look then smiled. ‘Here, it’s the mists. They come down so fast that people have died.’
‘How?’
‘They get lost. You need a map and compass, even if you’re familiar with the landscape.’
She could smell sheep dung, wet peat, and the sweet traces of woodsmoke, but more than that she could smell and feel the wilderness coursing through her veins in an almost elemental way. Thrilled by it, she turned abruptly, ready to touch him, but he had already moved on and was standing looking the other way.
She glanced again at the moor and at the luminous quality of the air. She really didn’t want to leave Devon.
‘In the summer,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts, ‘it’s all about the heather, and earlier in the year the amazing scent of gorse, a bit like coconut and marzipan mixed together especially when it’s warm.’
‘I read somewhere that people believed witches hid in gorse bushes.’
He laughed. ‘Only witches could survive the spikes. I used to come looking for witches when I was a boy.
‘Ever find one?’
He grinned. ‘What do you think?’
There was a momentary silence. Then he glanced athis watch. ‘How about a spot of lunch before we head back? I know a pretty decent hotel.’
She nodded as they walked back to where he’d parked.
‘So,’ he said, as they stood before the car. Then he jammed his hands into his pockets, looked down, and stubbed his heel into the ground. ‘Did you hear from your mother while I was away?’
She shook her head and there was a short pause before she spoke.
‘Jack, you never speak aboutyourmother.’
He looked away and then back at her. ‘I had a twin brother. He died at birth, and it made Mum anxious. But, like you, she was a great baker. I remember that.’
