On the second afternoon, after they had unpacked the last of the boxes, Adrian said they should go out for a walk. That, he said, was the whole point of moving here, to go out for walks.
‘Nature,’ he said. ‘You don’t just look at it, do you?’
For the time being she would have been happy to do that. She was bone-tired. Even her brain was tired. Filling the packing cases, cleaning the old flat for the people who were coming in, because that, apparently, was something else you did; travelling down, cleaning the cottage, because the people leaving had not done it for them; unpacking the boxes, putting things away. A hot poker bored into her lower back every time she moved. She had period pain. Her arms ached.
What she wanted to do was indeed to ‘just look at it’. To lie down and look at the dense, green leaves that blotted out the mould-coloured sky. The faint line of blue hills in the far distance. The jungle of garden.
‘We can get our bearings later,’ Adrian said.
Bearings.
She went in search of some painkillers. The bathroom had a sloping roof with a small square of window that let in more greenish, undersea light. The trees pressed in on them, but she supposed that in winter the light would be clear and they would see across fields to the blue hills.
‘Paula?’
He bounded up the stairs.
‘Come on. What are you doing?’
‘Looking for the Nurofen.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’
She waved a hand vaguely.
‘Headache?’
‘Back. Arms. You know.’
‘You don’t need painkillers. You need a walk. Fresh air. Come on.’
She went, not being able to find the Nurofen. Maybe they were in her handbag. Maybe they were slipped in with the bed linen. Or the DVDs.
‘Come on!’
The wooden gate felt greasy after the night’s rain and the long grass trailed cold against her legs.
Adrian stood in the middle of the track and slowly stretched his arms above his head. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath, expanding his rib cage. Released it slowly.
You look so stupid, she wanted to say. But just walked on past him.
‘AAAHHHH!’ he went again.
The cottage was at the end of the track that opened into a wider lane. There was no other house until you reached a small green at the top.
‘Do you think we’ll be snowed in?’
Adrian leaped and jumped until he reached her. His mouth was half-open, the huge white teeth grinning.
‘Hope so.’
‘What?’
He put his arm round her shoulders and pulled her in to him for a second.
‘Well, it would be fun and it’s all part of living in the country.’
‘It snows in the town.’
‘Different.’
‘How?’
‘Oh, you know – town snow melts to slush. It looks dirty.’
‘Doesn’t country snow?’
‘Not in the same way.’
Paula thought it probably did, but said nothing.
He pulled her along.
Past the houses, another lane led steeply downhill. Unsuitable for Motors .
It narrowed. Trees on either side, and more trees below. The air mushroomy.
Adrian turned to face her. His forehead was damp.
‘You’re going to love it. You could come down here every day.’
She tried to imagine that.
‘Before you start work.’
‘I start work at half past eight.’
‘But I’ll be gone by seven, and people get up early in the country.’
‘What people?’
‘Oh, everybody.’
But she liked it. Liked the great smooth tree trunks and the closeness of the air. She looked up. The sky seemed far away.
They dropped down the steep slope, clutching onto one another and suddenly Paula had a leap of the heart, as if this were some sort of mad, secret impulse, rather than a long-planned and several times almost-capsized move from suburban street to isolated village. But it had not capsized. The cottage had not been bought by someone else. They had packed up their lives and despatched them two hundred miles in a van, which had had to make three stabs at reversing down the track to their gate.
They were here, then. She slithered a couple of yards
‘Nature,’ he said. ‘You don’t just look at it, do you?’
For the time being she would have been happy to do that. She was bone-tired. Even her brain was tired. Filling the packing cases, cleaning the old flat for the people who were coming in, because that, apparently, was something else you did; travelling down, cleaning the cottage, because the people leaving had not done it for them; unpacking the boxes, putting things away. A hot poker bored into her lower back every time she moved. She had period pain. Her arms ached.
What she wanted to do was indeed to ‘just look at it’. To lie down and look at the dense, green leaves that blotted out the mould-coloured sky. The faint line of blue hills in the far distance. The jungle of garden.
‘We can get our bearings later,’ Adrian said.
Bearings.
She went in search of some painkillers. The bathroom had a sloping roof with a small square of window that let in more greenish, undersea light. The trees pressed in on them, but she supposed that in winter the light would be clear and they would see across fields to the blue hills.
‘Paula?’
He bounded up the stairs.
‘Come on. What are you doing?’
‘Looking for the Nurofen.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’
She waved a hand vaguely.
‘Headache?’
‘Back. Arms. You know.’
‘You don’t need painkillers. You need a walk. Fresh air. Come on.’
She went, not being able to find the Nurofen. Maybe they were in her handbag. Maybe they were slipped in with the bed linen. Or the DVDs.
‘Come on!’
The wooden gate felt greasy after the night’s rain and the long grass trailed cold against her legs.
Adrian stood in the middle of the track and slowly stretched his arms above his head. Closed his eyes. Took a deep breath, expanding his rib cage. Released it slowly.
You look so stupid, she wanted to say. But just walked on past him.
‘AAAHHHH!’ he went again.
The cottage was at the end of the track that opened into a wider lane. There was no other house until you reached a small green at the top.
‘Do you think we’ll be snowed in?’
Adrian leaped and jumped until he reached her. His mouth was half-open, the huge white teeth grinning.
‘Hope so.’
‘What?’
He put his arm round her shoulders and pulled her in to him for a second.
‘Well, it would be fun and it’s all part of living in the country.’
‘It snows in the town.’
‘Different.’
‘How?’
‘Oh, you know – town snow melts to slush. It looks dirty.’
‘Doesn’t country snow?’
‘Not in the same way.’
Paula thought it probably did, but said nothing.
He pulled her along.
Past the houses, another lane led steeply downhill. Unsuitable for Motors .
It narrowed. Trees on either side, and more trees below. The air mushroomy.
Adrian turned to face her. His forehead was damp.
‘You’re going to love it. You could come down here every day.’
She tried to imagine that.
‘Before you start work.’
‘I start work at half past eight.’
‘But I’ll be gone by seven, and people get up early in the country.’
‘What people?’
‘Oh, everybody.’
But she liked it. Liked the great smooth tree trunks and the closeness of the air. She looked up. The sky seemed far away.
They dropped down the steep slope, clutching onto one another and suddenly Paula had a leap of the heart, as if this were some sort of mad, secret impulse, rather than a long-planned and several times almost-capsized move from suburban street to isolated village. But it had not capsized. The cottage had not been bought by someone else. They had packed up their lives and despatched them two hundred miles in a van, which had had to make three stabs at reversing down the track to their gate.
They were here, then. She slithered a couple of yards
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