1
A glimmer of rose-gold light was visible over the fells, so it had to be after six, thought Abby. Maybe she should get up. She had barely managed to sleep so far; there was little to be gained from lying there any longer. So this was it. The day was here: September the third. Abby turned her head away from the window, where her still-open curtains framed the dawn, to Benâs side of the bed. She closed her eyes, awake but dreaming.
She saw Rowan, wriggling in her arms as a baby; then as a toddler, wobbling as she learned to walk. Now another milestone was here: her first day of school.
âSheâll be fine,â she thought she heard Ben say, his voice a muffled whisper.
Heâd never been one to stress. Always said Abby worried enough for two.
She wished heâd kiss her now, like he used to. Say he loved her again.
She reached an arm out beneath the duvet, in the hope heâd pull her in for a cuddle, but of course the sheets were cold. She opened her eyes, and reality bore down on her. Ben was gone and he wasnât coming back. She was on her own. Just like she had been since before their daughter was even born.
She pushed back the covers, and pressed her palms to her cheeks, as though physically plastering on a brave face for Rowanâs sake. She walked into the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Five years older since sheâd last seen Ben. Longer since theyâd spoken. Heâd disappeared in the same way the last streaks of sunset slunk from the sky, suddenly leaving night-time in their wake; one moment Abby had a husband and a beautiful life, the next minute sheâd been plunged into darkness. How time slipped away. Rowan was growing up. And heâd never even met her.
Today felt like such a big step. An unexpected burst of anger surged through her body and she braced her arms against the sink, waiting for it to subside into sadness and exhaustion. She summoned all her strength. She was going to need it to get through today. She didnât relish the thought of dropping Rowan off at the school gates alongside all the other pairs of parents.
âMummy?â
Rowan pulled her back to the present, from the brink of her helter-skelter of despair. She stood in the doorway, her pyjama top on inside out, and rubbed her eyes. Her blonde hair, the same hay-bale shade as Benâs, was sleep-ruffled. âI donât want to go today.â
Abby knew how she felt. She crouched down, and gazed into her daughterâs moss-green eyes. âYou were excited yesterday, sweetheart.â
Rowanâs forehead rumpled. âCan we stay here and make a cake instead?â
Abby wished more than anything that they could.
âYouâll like it when you get there. Make lots of new friends.â She smoothed straw-coloured strands away from Rowanâs face.
Her daughter shook her head. Which one of them had she inherited her stubbornness from? Abby wondered. Please donât make this harder than it already is, she pleaded with her child in silence. âCome on, darling, letâs get you dressed.â
She was still battling to get breakfast cereal from Rowanâs spoon into her stomach, when the doorbell rang.
Rowan glanced up, intrigued by the interruption.
Abby sighed.
âYou carry on, please, poppet,â instructed Abby, walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. A shiver shot across her skin like an ice cube sliding down her spine. Was it going to be the landlord? But Ben had told her heâd taken care of their rent. Heâd said she didnât have to fret about that, at least.
Abby swallowed as she opened the door â and came face to face with a complete stranger.
âHi there. Good morning,â the woman said with a transatlantic twang, greeting her twice as though in compensation for the disturbance.
Great, a cold-caller was exactly what she needed; the missing ingredient from her morning, thought Abby, scratching her neck as though sarcasm was worn like a scarf.
âI apologise for interrupting âŚâ began the woman, beaming back at her, buttermilk locks bouncing on her shoulders.
She didnât look sorry, thought Abby, squinting in the stark September light. The woman appeared to be around her motherâs age, and certainly had the same knack for an ill-timed visit.
âI wonder if you could help me, if you had a spare second?â
Abby bit her lip, stopping a quip about all the surplus minutes she had at her disposal from slipping out of her mouth.
The womanâs shoulders sagged in the ensuing silence. âNo worries âŚâ She swatted the crisp air and turned to leave, pulling her cashmere cardigan closer around her.
Abby felt Rowanâs warm body press itself to her hip, her daughter clearly overcome by curiosity.
âWill you go to school so I donât have to?â Rowan called out into the still, chill morning.
The woman spun round. âHey!â she said to Rowan, with a wide smile and such warmth Abby felt her core thaw a little. âIâve already been to school, honey,â she said in answer to Rowanâs question. âA long time ago,â she added with a laugh. âBut itâs a lot of fun, I promise, and I canât imagine a more beautiful part of the world to go to kindergarten in. Youâre a very lucky girl, sweetie.â
Abby was struck by that last sentence: she wondered how many other people would say the same about Rowan. She squeezed her daughterâs shoulder.
âThanks,â she said to the woman, her breath visible in the cold fresh air. âWhat was it you wanted to ask?â she added, tilting her head to one side.
âOh, itâs just I canât switch on the darn heater, and my cell phone is dead â I forgot one of those, er, what do you call them? The gadgets for power overseas.â
âAdapter.â
âThatâs it.â The woman blew out a breath. âSo I canât call the rental company.â
Ah, she was from the holiday cottage next door.
âBut Iâll figure it all out. You both have a great day.â
Abby watched as she struggled with the latch on the adjacent cottageâs wrought-iron gate. âWait a second. I can take a quick look if you like?â
The gratitude on the womanâs face caused guilt to course through her. Had she become less giving now she was used to doing everything herself? She must have.
âAre you sure?â
Abby nodded. Sheâd need to be fast, but she felt for the woman: seemingly alone in an unfamiliar place.
âIâm Lori, by the way. Your neighbour for the time being.â
âHello. Iâm Abby, and this is Rowan.â
âYou sound like Elsa!â declared her daughter. âFrom Frozen.â
Lori laughed as she led them both into Silver Ghyll Cottage. âItâs just over here,â she said, pointing at the hearth. âI canât seem to find any way of turning it on. There must be an ignitor somewhere âŚâ
Abby frowned at the fireplace, flanked by two neat stacks of wood either side. âEr, itâs a log burner.â
A beetroot bloom crept into Loriâs cheeks. âIâm from New York City,â she said by way of explanation.
âI can show you how to light it, donât worry.â Abby crouched down.
Lori marvelled as though she was watching a magic trick, and when amber flames began to flicker behind the glass, she clapped. âThank you so much!â
Abby grinned as she got to her feet. âYouâre welcome. Right, I better get this little rascal to school,â she said, glancing round for her daughter.
Rowan was delving about in the top drawer of an oak sideboard on the far wall.
âDarling, stop that!â Abby strode over to her. If they didnât get a move on they were going to be late. But there beside a stack of leaflets on local attractions and a leatherbound visitorsâ book, was a converter plug. She plucked it out.
Lori squealed with glee. âJeez, arenât you an angel.â
âAll sorted!â Abby grinned despite herself. She glanced around Silver Ghyllâs living room with its old, exposed beams and gleaming flag floors. The place had a welcoming charm like her house had once had.
âWhatâs the best way to get to lake Rydal?â asked Lori with a foreignerâs turn of phrase as Abby corralled Rowan out of the door.
She didnât really have time for any more questions. There was a tourist information centre in town, for that sort of thing.
âCan I walk there?â Lori added.
Abby resisted the urge to reply that you could walk anywhere if you kept going long enough. âUm.â She took in Loriâs expensive-looking, biscuits-and-cream-coloured clothing. She didnât strike her as being a long-distance hiker. But appearances could conceal hidden depths. âItâs about half an hour on foot,â she said.
Loriâs eyes widened expectantly and Abby stifled a sigh. âGo through the park and follow the river Rothay to the packhorse bridge.â
Loriâs gaze didnât leave hers, as though she was listening to a fairy tale, not a set of directions.
âCross over the beck, then follow the track to the lake shore. You canât miss it.â
âLet me write this down âŚâ Lori patted her cardiganâs pockets as though a Biro could have stowed away in its cashmere folds.
Abby pursed her lips. Rowanâs fingers wriggled for freedom in her clasp, desperate to explore the undiscovered corners of the house.
âOne second,â said Lori.
Abby grasped her last grain of patience with the same tenacity as she gripped her daughterâs hand.
âHere we are,â said Lori, now poised with a pen and a gold-edged notebook.
The instructions for how to get to the lake were as imprinted on Abbyâs mind as her daughterâs name and date of birth, but when was the last time she herself had been down to the waterâs edge? she wondered as she ran through the way there once more. How long had it been since sheâd wandered along one of the winding pebbly paths, watched the sunâs rays dance on Rydalâs rippled surface, or seen the rosy shimmer of twilight on the river?
Then Rowan tugged on her arm, and yanked her back to the present.
Abby looked down at her wrist and caught sight of the time on her watch: Oh Jesus, they should have set off ten minutes ago.
Rowan skipped alongside her, clutching her Frozen lunchbox, as they hurried down the lane that led to the primary school, and Abby couldnât help thinking that Loriâs kind words of encouragement must have lifted her daughterâs spirits and made the day seem less daunting. She was thankful â but the same couldnât be said for herself. Her insides were churning like the river Rothay in a winter storm, and a swell of sadness was bubbling to the surface that she was struggling to suppress.
At the school gates, she hugged Rowan twice, wanting her to feel just as much love as any of the other children. As the teachers beckoned in the new starters, she waved h...