Jesus,’ he curses, running his fingers through his hair, retying it in a knot on the top of his head. He walks up the trail to the cottage; the other two follow him but stay close to the bat house when he goes to the cottage.
Solomon’s heart pounds as he approaches the door and he has no idea why. He wipes his clammy hands on his jeans, and prepares to knock but before he even lifts his hand, the door opens. He can’t see her, assumes she’s behind the door and so he steps inside. As soon as he’s in, the door closes. She locks the door and stands with her back to it, as if to reinforce it.
‘Hi,’ he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
‘He’s by the fire,’ Laura says, eyes barely able to settle on him. She seems nervous, worried.
Even though she introduced herself earlier, Solomon is almost surprised to hear her speak. In the woods she had a wild girl feeling about her; here in her home she seems more real.
Mossie is lying on his side on a sheepskin rug before the log-burning stove, his chest rising and falling with his slow breaths. His eyes are open, though he seems unaware of what’s going on around him. The fire blazes beside him, a bowl of water and a bowl of food sit untouched by his head.
‘He’s not eating or drinking anything,’ she says, getting on the floor beside Mossie, arms over him, protecting him.
Solomon should be looking at the dog but he can’t take his eyes off her. She looks up at him, lost, worried, beautiful enchanting green eyes.
‘Is he bleeding?’ He goes to Mossie and slides beside him, opposite Laura, the closest they’ve been. ‘Hiya, boy.’ He places a hand on his fur and gently rubs.
Mossie looks at him, the pain obvious from his eyes. He whimpers.
Laura echoes Mossie’s whimper in an astonishing likeness that forces Solomon to study her again. ‘He’s not bleeding. I don’t know where his pain is, but he can’t stand.’
‘He should see a vet.’
She looks at him. ‘Will you take him?’
‘Me? Sure, but we could ask Joe, seeing as he’s his dog.’ And then, at the look on her face, he adds, ‘Too.’
‘Joe doesn’t like me,’ she says. ‘None of them likes me.’
‘That’s not true. Joe isn’t used to change, that’s all. Change makes some people angry.’
‘Change with the change,’ she says, but her voice has drastically altered. It’s lower, deeper, Northern England, someone else’s.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Gaga. My grandmother. That’s what she used to say.’
‘Oh. Right. Will you come with me to the vet?’ he asks. He wants her to come with him.
‘No. No. I stay here.’
It is a general statement. Not, I will stay here. But I stay here. Always.
Her clear skin is illuminated by the firelight. It’s so calm and serene in this room, despite Mossie’s struggle to survive and Laura’s quiet panic.
She strokes Mossie’s belly, which moves up and down slowly.
‘When is the last time you left the mountain?’ he asks.
She hides her face behind her hair, uncomfortable with the question.
‘How long have you lived here?’ he asks.
She takes a while to answer the question. ‘Since I was sixteen. Ten years ago,’ she replies, stroking Mossie.
‘You haven’t left since then?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’ve had no reason to.’
He’s staggered by this. ‘Well, you have one now. Mossie would probably prefer it if you came with him,’ he says.
And as if in agreement Mossie breathes out, his body shuddering.
Bo is outside with Jimmy, pacing, making awkward conversation, watching the flickering fire in the windows, the scent of chimney smoke pumping from the cottage.
‘Interesting Joe never noticed the smoke.’ She looks up at the plume of smoke rising from the chimney.
Jimmy looks up. ‘I suppose farms are always burning something or other.’
Bo nods, good point. ‘So you don’t know who this girl is?’
‘I’ve never seen her before,’ he shakes his head. ‘And I’d know everyone around here. In a rural town like ours with a population of a few hundred, all spread around the mountains. It’s a mystery. My wife reckons she’s a tourist, not from around here, one of those hikers who stumbled across the cottage and stayed. We get a lot of them. Over the years a few have stayed. They fall in love with the place, or someone in the place, decide to put down roots here. She might not be here very long.’
Bo ponders that but his wife’s conclusion does nothing to quell Bo’s curiosity, only further fuels her multiplying questions. Why would Tom lie about renting the cottage? Was it for his own financial gain? She doubted that. She filmed on this mountain three years ago and Tom never brought them here, never even mentioned it. She guesses the girl has been there at least that long or they would have filmed here. ‘Why the secret?’ she asks, confused.
Jimmy looks thoughtful, but doesn’t reply.
The door to the cottage opens and Solomon appears. He fills the tiny doorframe with his physique. The firelight is behind him, he is a dark large shadow. He looks like a hero, carrying a dog from a blazing fire.
Bo smiles at the image.
Solomon turns and speaks to the girl behind him, encourages her to come outside.
‘Come on, Laura, it’s okay.’ And there’s something in the way that he says that, or looks as he says that, that causes Bo’s smile to freeze.
And then the girl appears, in a belted checked shirt-dress, with Converse and a chunky cardigan over it, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders.
‘We’re going to take Mossie to the vet,’ Solomon tells them. ‘Where do we go?’
‘Patrick Murphy, in the main street. Surgery will be closed now, but I’ll give him a call,’ Jimmy says, studying Laura. ‘Hello, Laura,’ he says kindly, wanting to make up for his earlier approach.
Laura stares down at her Converses. She looks terrified. She reaches out and holds on to Solomon’s arm. She grips him so tightly, he can feel her body shaking.
‘We should go quickly, Garda.’ Solomon starts to move. ‘Mossie isn’t doing very well. I’m sure Joe would want him seen to first before anything else.’
‘Right so,’ Jimmy says, stepping back. ‘Laura, we can arrange to have an informal chat over the next few days. This lad can be
