She enjoys the sound of snow being compacted beneath her feet, it’s the only noise to dent the silence, apart from the distant clicking of bats. She likes to watch them swooping over the loch at night, it’s a rather beautiful sight to see. Robin read recently that bats give birth to their babies while hanging upside down. Then they have to catch their children before they fall too far, but that part is the same for all parents. Her path tonight is lit by the light of a full moon, without it the night sky would be a sea of black, as the clouds have hidden all but the brightest stars again now. But that’s OK: Robin has never been afraid of the dark.
She isn’t bothered by a snow storm or howling wind, and she doesn’t mind being cut off from the rest of the world for a few days – it’s not so different from her normal routine if she’s honest. And Robin does always try to be truthful. Especially with herself. She has got used to living here now, even though she only planned to stay for a short while when she arrived. Life makes other plans when people forget to live. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, and when what happened, happened, she knew she couldn’t leave.
The visitors won’t be able to leave when they want to either. Not that they know that yet. It’s impossible not to feel a tiny bit sorry for them.
Robin reaches their snow-covered car and stops for a moment. She recognised the man as soon as he got out, and the memory of it winds her. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. Wasn’t even sure she wanted to. He’s older now, but she rarely forgets a face, and could never forget his. Her mind wanders back in time, and she thinks about what happened when he was a boy. What he saw and what he didn’t. The story is as tragic now as it was then, and Robin wonders if he still has the nightmares about the woman in red. She thinks the time has come for him to be told the truth, but he isn’t going to like it. People rarely do.
When Robin reaches the chapel’s large wooden doors, she takes one last look around, but there is nobody here to see what she is about to do. The moonlight that was kind enough to light her path reveals the loch and the mountains in the distance, and she can’t help but notice how unspoilt and beautiful this place is. People who do ugly things do not belong here, she thinks, as she looks at the visitors’ Morris Minor covered in snow. It’s her favourite kind of weather, because the snow covers the world in a beautiful blanket of white, hiding everything that is dark and ugly underneath.
Life is like a game where pawns can become queens, but not everyone knows how to play. Some people stay pawns their whole lives because they never learned to make the right moves. This is just the beginning. Nobody has played their cards yet because they didn’t know they were being dealt.
Robin takes a key from her coat pocket and quietly lets herself inside the chapel.
Linen
Word of the year:
hornswoggle verb to get the better of someone by cheating or deception.
29th February 2012 – our fourth anniversary
Dear Adam,
I feel as though we have always shared the same dreams – and nightmares – but it’s been a difficult year. You let me down should have been by my side, but you weren’t. I sat in the waiting room alone and afraid, despite you promising to be there with me.
After three years of trying, two years of appointments, a whole cast of different doctors and nurses, seemingly endless trips to hospitals and clinics for the last twelve months, and one failed round of IVF, I feel broken. This was not how I wanted to spend our anniversary.
I should have known today would be awful, it didn’t start well.
Two young dogs were rescued last night from a flat in South London. They were brought to Battersea and I was one of the first to see them. Despite all my years in this job, even I was shocked. The beagles had been left alone for a long time. The on-call vet guessed at least a week. If they hadn’t drunk water from the toilet they would have been dead already. Their emaciated bodies made them look like toys with all the stuffing pulled out. We did everything we could to try and save them, but they died this morning. In the end there was nothing more we could do and it was kinder to put them down. Their owner was on holiday in Spain and I wish we could have given her a lethal injection instead. Sometimes I despise human beings, so maybe it is just as well we’ve never been able to make one.
We were supposed to meet at London Bridge at one o’clock this afternoon. I’ve been having problems sleeping recently, I’m exhausted, but I was still there and on time. Because the appointment at the fertility clinic was important to me. I thought it was important to us, but you’ve been more selfish distracted than ever lately. I was worried you might forget, so I texted to remind you.