Highland Fling

by Anna Larner

  “I’ve imagined her feelings for me, haven’t I? Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m some kind of weirdo.”

  “Eve, no, mate. Look, you’re not weird. She would have been giving you signals. For Christ’s sake, you’re that bad at gaydar they were probably semaphore.”

  Eve sighed. “She’s really hard to read, Rox.”

  “Then just let her tell you straight then, so to speak, if—when—she gets in touch. Let me know how it goes. In fact, why don’t you, in the meantime, get some fresh air, take a walk, clear your head. Make holiday plans with your family.”

  “Okay, thanks, Rox, thanks for listening. And Rox?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wish you were here.”

  “You’ll be fine. I’m just a phone call away.”

  *

  Roxanne flopped into Eve’s armchair and placed the phone on the side table next to her. She played with the velvet arms, moving the grain of the purple fabric forwards and backwards. She hated it when Eve was upset. She felt a rush of exhaustion; it had been a busy night, without the opportunity for a break. She finished her tea and, yawning, went into Eve’s bedroom and slumped onto the bed.

  If Roxanne was honest, she was worried for Eve. She worried that things wouldn’t be fine. She worried that Eve had confused the kindness of an outdoors-type woman with something more. After all, many an unsuspecting lesbian had fallen foul of the subtle and dangerous powers of a difficult to read straight woman.

  “Dangerous women.” Roxanne thumped Eve’s pillow more firmly into place under her head. “Dangerous straight women.”

  Chapter Ten

  Eve couldn’t help but notice that, even on holidays, Sundays somehow remained distinctly Sunday. When she wandered into the living room, at a tardy midday, no one seemed to care. The impulse to consolidate the holiday’s success, to plan the adventures for the week ahead, had not yet stirred.

  Saturday evening’s high kicks had taken their toll on the Eddisons. Eve glanced at Lillian, who was balancing a large glass of sauvignon blanc in one hand and a Catherine Cookson in the other, reclining on the sofa. Esther was curled up in an armchair fast asleep. Only Henry mustered the energy to stand at the window holding a pair of binoculars against his pale face.

  Eve looked out warily across to Moira’s garden. She felt sick with embarrassment. Oh my God.

  She recalled Roxanne’s advice to take a walk, clear her head, and make holiday plans with her family.

  “So, anyone fancy a walk?” Eve asked, faking cheeriness and enthusiasm.

  Without looking up from her book, Lillian said, “Darling, I’ve just poured your father and me a white wine.”

  Henry spoke from behind his binoculars. “Remember to take your phone, Eve.”

  “Right, okay. Will do.”

  As Eve set out on her walk, she replayed the previous night’s hug again and again, desperately trying to recall the details of what happened and to second guess what Moira might be thinking. I wonder if she’s cross. Or upset. What if she’s upset?

  Engrossed in her thoughts, before she knew what, she had climbed halfway up the hill. She looked back down the curling path, which revealed the journey she had travelled past black peatbog, blowing grasses, dragon-tongued ferns, and mystical fir trees. Eve leant against a tree and watched the shadow of clouds pass over the distant hills and mountains.

  Eve could feel the effort of exercise reinvigorating her lingering hangover. I could do with a sit. Eve looked at the grass under the various trees. Everywhere she looked she thought she saw something wriggle or move. Eve took a large glug from her bottle of water. A shape amongst the trees caught her eye. Nestled amongst tree trunks and ferns was a circular hut, complete with grass roof.

  Eve peered inside and saw a low wooden bench. The hut was clearly used for teaching and had various posters and handling objects scattered about. It was also clearly, with all its shadowy nooks, the ideal home for spiders.

  Along with her mobile and her raincoat, Eve had brought with her, tucked into various pockets of her rucksack, a torch, a bottle of water, and two chocolate mini rolls. She had also shoved half a loo roll into her trouser pocket, just in case.

  She clicked the torch on. Warily, she checked the hut, looking under the bench—clear—along the bottom edges of the hut—suspect webs but no sign of spiders. The hut smelt unsurprisingly of grass and old wood. The wooden frame supporting the roof had been carved to form the shape of a fifty pence piece, with struts at each angle meeting at a central point. Fir branches tucked between the wooden frame provided a rudimentary canopy.

  Eve shone her torch and followed the struts along. She decided that she would just lie down on the bench for a moment and was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was. She undid her raincoat from her waist and tucked it under her head. For the next sleepy few minutes, Eve clicked the torch on and off, checking the suspect webs and the floor of the hut for any woodland company.

  *

  When Moira arrived at the teaching hut to drop off items for Alice’s session with the scouts, she felt as if she had stumbled across the most precious thing in the world.

  Eve was sleeping on her side, with her face towards the doorway. One arm was wrapped around her, the other lay outstretched towards Moira. Her long-sleeved T-shirt had lifted slightly revealing Eve’s torso. Moira looked at the sliver of bare skin exposed between T-shirt and jeans. Steadying herself against the doorway, she fought back an intense and powerful need to hold Eve. If there was any doubt in Moira Burns’s heart as to whether she wanted Eve Eddison, it vanished right there. She knew she should wake Eve but simply couldn’t bring herself to. She rested her jumper over Eve’s sleeping body and turned off the lit torch which lay on the floor underneath the bench. She then stood for five minutes watching her sleep.

  “There’s so much I need to say, Eve,” Moira whispered. “You make me feel alive.”

  When Alice arrived at the hut, she screwed her face in Eve’s direction and asked, “What on earth is she doing?”

  Moira briefly rested her hand on Alice’s arm. “Shh, let her sleep.”

  “But I’ve got a class in here.”

  “Well, wake her before the group arrive. Will you stay with her? I’ve got mud bricks going off by the Whisky Still and they need to go in.” Moira effortlessly feigned complete indifference.

  “No—I mean, you wake her up, Moira. She’s in the way.”

  Moira didn’t reply.

  Alice snapped, “This is ridiculous. She’s ridiculous.”

  “She’s not ridiculous, Alice. She’s doing no harm.”

  “I don’t know why you’re defending her. Is that your jumper?” Alice looked directly at Moira, her face flushed, accusation burning in her eyes.

  “I’ll see you later, Alice.” Moira folded her arms in front of her and headed towards the Whisky Still, towards the woodland, towards the constant, certain sanctuary of the Newland hills.

  *

  Eve woke with a start. She couldn’t tell how long she had slept; she only knew that when she woke she had somebody’s jumper over her.

  “Moira?” Eve spoke out loud, triggering a rustle from outside. In the doorway, lit like a shadow from the light behind, stood a slim figure.

  “No, it’s Alice.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Alice, I must have dropped off. You should have woken me. I didn’t mean to be a trouble.” Embarrassed, Eve sat up and adjusted her clothes.

  “I was about to wake you. We have a local scout group gathering here, any minute now actually.” Alice was staring at her wristwatch as she spoke. “But Moira told me to let you sleep for a bit, so…” Alice shrugged and looked around her.

  Moira? Feeling decidedly in the way, Eve quickly gathered her belongings together, pausing to take a look at her phone. There were no messages. It was two o’clock.

  “I’d best make my way back home. Thank you for the jumper.” Eve tried to hand back the jumper to Alice.

  “No,
it’s Moira’s,” Alice said, somewhat defensively.

  “Oh, right.” Moira’s? “Well, thank you again.” Eve looked at the jumper in her arms and back at Alice.

  Alice said flatly, “She’s mending the Whisky Still.”

  “Oh, right. I’m not quite sure which way—”

  Alice sighed heavily. “Down the hill, to the left.”

  From nowhere, suddenly, Eve was surrounded by toggle-wearing, khaki-shirted children, swooping around her like seagulls around fish-and-chip-eating tourists. As she weaved her way through the crowd, she looked back and caught Alice’s eye. Eve waved her hand to say farewell. Whether Alice did not see it or whether she ignored Eve, Eve could not tell. Either way, Alice simply turned away.

  So Moira found me sleeping and put a jumper over me? Okay. Despite the sun, Eve felt herself shiver. She felt oddly a bit exposed. She worried that she might have been caught snoring or, even worse, drooling. Eve wiped the edges of her mouth on the bottom of her sleeve and looked across to the Whisky Still, tucked down into a little valley by a stream. The historic landmark had been carved into the craggy hillside and was partly covered by a soft, dense moss. Eve couldn’t see Moira, but she could see a variety of tools, and she could hear a digging noise.

  Eve took a deep breath and called out, “Moira, hi, it’s Eve.”

  She did her best to sound nonchalant, breezy, and not like the weirdo she felt she was. She was also hoping she wouldn’t have to make her way down the steep incline. At first, there was no reply. It struck her that it might be better after all not to bother Moira and just to leave her jumper by her door.

  “Hello.” Moira popped her head briefly out the Still. She covered her eyes with her hand to shield them from the sun.

  Eve felt relieved that Moira didn’t sound particularly cross. Speaking cautiously, she said, “Hi, I’ve got your jumper, sorry to have bothered you by being in the hut. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just fancied a walk, and I’m a bit tired from last night.” She stopped herself, not quite believing that she was stupid enough to remind Moira of the night before.

  “Sorry, Eve, I’ve got to finish this.” Moira’s head disappeared back inside.

  Right. Eve wasn’t sure what to do next. Did Moira want her to wait or to leave? Eve took a quick glance around her and as she gingerly made her way down the slope, she could feel the soft terrain giving way underneath her wellington boots. She used her hands to balance herself and finally resorted to sliding on her bottom. Elegant.

  Eve stood waiting at the entrance.

  “So, well, I’ve got your jumper. Moira?” Eve could just see that Moira was fixing mud bricks into holes in the wall. She was holding two bricks into place and searching behind her for the final one. Eve stepped inside and picked up the missing piece, handing it to Moira.

  “Thanks. Sorry I just needed to finish that before it set.” Moira turned to face Eve.

  Handing Moira her jumper, Eve felt her stomach drop. Moira’s cheeks and neck were flushed with the effort of her work. The top buttons of her shirt were undone. Eve watched as Moira tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and smoothed her palm over the front of her shirt. You look so hot. A rush of admiration for Moira swept over Eve so much so she couldn’t help but enthuse, “You’re very skilled, you know.”

  Moira smiled broadly. “I’m sure you are skilled in your field, Eve.”

  Eve tried to think of skills she could tell Moira about. “I’m a librarian. I work in the City Library, in Leicester. So I guess I’m good at orderliness.” Eve rubbed her hands together to remove the remnants of soil.

  “Nature’s not very orderly or tidy, I’m afraid,” Moira said, moving her work lamp to one side as she sat heavily on a roughly sculptured mud seat.

  “I can’t believe they make you work on a Sunday.” Eve glanced around the shadowy Still.

  “You can’t really leave things that need mending, or easily limit access to the woods, not that we’d want to. So it’s a seven day a week job. I don’t mind—I like being out here.”

  “So it’s vocational work, then, really,” Eve said, her eyebrows raised with her suggestion. Eve felt sure there was something funny she could say about nuns.

  Moira smiled and said, “Exactly.”

  Eve basked in the warmth of Moira’s smile, only to realize that she was likely holding Moira’s gaze just that little bit too long. She could hear Roxanne telling her that she was behaving like a crazy person.

  “I’m sorry about, you know, hugging you last night, a moment of madness. I’m fully in control again, really,” Eve said in earnest. “Really.”

  Moira nodded and looked down. Speaking towards the ground she said, “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t know what came over me. I’m very sorry, it won’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay, Eve.”

  “I understand if you don’t want to see me again. Really I do.” Eve swallowed back her growing feeling of despair.

  Moira smiled kindly. “It’s okay, really, it’s okay.”

  Eve heard herself say, “It feels like I’m on a roller coaster when you smile at me.” Okay, what was that? “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

  Moira nodded, amused.

  Embarrassed, and feeling a nuisance, Eve mustered some self-control, and turned to leave.

  “Eve.”

  When Eve turned around, Moira was standing in front of her. There was a pause.

  Moira looked intently at Eve’s face.

  “I’ve mud on my face, haven’t I?” Eve rubbed at her cheeks with her sleeve. “I slipped a bit coming down, you see.” Eve lifted her shirt to reveal her muddy bottom.

  Moira looked at Eve’s bottom.

  Eve saw her swallow. “That’s a bit too much information, isn’t it?”

  Moira’s expression seemed serious.

  “Okay then,” Eve said quickly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “You don’t have anything on your face, Eve.” Moira was blushing. “Your face is, that is, you are…” Moira sighed heavily.

  Before Eve had chance to wonder what she was, Moira leant towards her and kissed her cheek.

  “You’re very sweet, Eve,” Moira whispered, at the same time moving away.

  Eve felt her legs buckle, as she mumbled, “Uh-huh.” Her cheek tingled where Moira had kissed her. She could still feel Moira’s lips against her skin.

  Tying her jumper around her waist, Moira turned away to collect her belongings.

  “Don’t go, please, Moira.”

  The voices of children could be heard outside.

  “I’ve got to go.” With these few words, Moira stepped out the Still.

  Eve could hear Moira talking to the children. Then there was silence. Eve slumped onto the mud seat blinking into the half-light. She kissed me. Was she expecting me to kiss her? Why didn’t you kiss her? With her face firmly buried in her hands, Eve exclaimed out loud, “You’re really crap at this.” Eve didn’t notice the Still darken.

  “You need to know…” Moira stood in the doorway. Her voice broke as she spoke.

  “Moira?”

  Moira’s hand covered her mouth, as she fought in vain to prevent her tears. “You need to understand, Eve, I’m not like you.”

  Eve held her breath.

  “My life—it’s not like yours.” Moira seemed to be struggling desperately to control her emotion, as if it threatened to overwhelm her.

  Eve sat motionless, staring at the silhouette of Moira. She simply didn’t understand.

  The natural process when you don’t understand is to ask questions, but Eve couldn’t bring herself to. Eve knew that Roxanne would just come straight out and ask Moira if she was gay, but Eve, looking at a distraught Moira, trying to explain, that she was not like Eve, couldn’t distress her any more.

  “I’ve no right to upset you, to make you explain yourself to me. I’ll go home, Moira.” Eve scrambled out the mud seat.

  Moira bowed her hea
d and began to cry into her hands.

  “I’m so sorry, Moira.” Eve gently, instinctively, placed her arms around Moira and held her close. Eve could feel the wet of Moira’s tears on her neck. “I’m sorry.”

  It was as if the word sorry was reaching out beyond excusing Eve’s rashness to soothing a deeper pain suggested by Moira’s tears. As she released her hold, Eve kissed Moira’s cheek. It felt warm and soft. Eve reached into her pocket, and with a smile and a shrug, she handed Moira the bundle of just-in-case loo roll.

  Moira wiped her tears, the beginnings of a smile breaking across her face. “I feel stupid.” She moved slightly away from Eve.

  Eve held out her hand, and Moira took it. It struck Eve how easy, natural the action felt.

  Moira looked at their hands, their fingers entwined, and asked, “What are we doing?”

  “I guess we like each other. Or”—Eve shrugged—“we just happen to be the only two people in the world who like to hold hands in muddy caves just for the sake of it.”

  Moira shook her head. “That’ll be it then.”

  Eve tucked a curl of damp hair behind Moira’s ear, away from her face.

  “I really like you,” Eve whispered, moving close to Moira.

  Moira smiled warmly. “I’d never have guessed.”

  Eve giggled. “Yeah, I’ve kept the admiring you thing in really well, haven’t I?”

  There was a pause. Eve looked at Moira’s hand tucked in hers.

  Feeling a rush of bravery, Eve cupped Moira’s cheeks and kissed her gently on the mouth. Moira’s lips felt cold. Eve kissed them again.

  “Moira?”

  Moira looked down. The mood became serious once more.

  “Is this okay, are you okay?” Eve could feel Moira’s chest rising up and down as she breathed. She was clearly trying to breathe deeply, to steady and to calm herself. Eve could feel Moira shaking.

  “Here.” Eve untied Moira’s jumper from around her waist and lifted it to rest over Moira’s shoulders. She moved her hands over Moira’s back, soothing and consoling, holding her close.