October 2013
Shirley slowed the car and squinted, she knew the turn to Brendon was easy to miss. It was surprising how much she remembered. Twenty years ago they had stayed for a week when Bill was alive. The sign jumped out of the dusk and she turned abruptly down a tiny, steep track into the valley.
She collected the key and regarded the cottage with affection before she opened the door. It led straight into the sitting room, which hadn't changed at all, dark wood, tapestry armchairs and a well used York stone fireplace. Tears stung her eyes as she played all the memories in her mind.
A cup of tea, that's what she needed. Ever thoughtful, the owners had left some basic provisions. She opened the back door onto the veranda overlooking the river and sat down with her comforting mug of tea. She couldn't see the ducks, but perhaps it was too late in the day. She and Bill had fed them all through their stay.
The river flowed ferociously after the recent rainfall. She gazed, mesmerised, into its inky depths. The features of the Romany woman she had encountered in Oxford Street came to her. Shirley was always a sucker. Anyone selling 'The Big Issue' or collecting for something, she just couldn't walk by, she wasn't made that way. Shirley was offered 'lucky heather' and Shirley immediately reached into her handbag.
'Wait' the Romany told her and grabbed her hand. Shirley was taken aback, but allowed her palm to be scrutinised. Her nut brown face clouded, she looked troubled as she released her grip. She pressed the heather into Shirley's hand.
'No charge for you'. Her dark eyes penetrated Shirley to her core. 'Make yourself happy . . . now'.
The woman disappeared into the crowds, but Shirley was rooted to the spot. The experience was other worldly, she could see herself from above, still and quiet, with everyone else pushing and jostling by. She was going to die, it was written in the stars. She saw her destiny in the black eyes of a stranger, with a special gift. She thanked God for it. She had some time, a little time.
The sunshine warmed her as she awoke in the cosy double bed. She smiled as she examined the detail of the tiny room that she had been too tired to appreciate last night. Her eyes fixed on the picture of the Doone Valley. More memories engulfed her, a water-logged country walk with Bill . . . what joy!
She treated herself to a hearty breakfast at the Staghunter's Inn, then kitted herself out in walking boots and haversack. She grabbed the Nordic poles and left. She remembered the route quite well, it was great to look around, instead of down at a map.
It was 'out of season' quiet as she strolled, only meeting one man walking his dog. She said a cheerful 'Morning', to which he smiled and replied 'Afternoon'. Tempus fugit, she thought . . . indeed it does. She was glad of the poles to aid her creaky knees as she tramped up a sharp incline. She was aware of the thumping of her heart.
At the top, she surveyed the scene. Gentle green hills around her, areas of woodland and the river below, azure, silver and sparkling, snaking away to the sea. Shirley felt quite calm. She dropped the poles, removed the haversack, took off her boots and ran. She bounded joyfully downhill, gaining momentum, towards the river. Grasses whipped her legs and thorns pricked her feet, but all she felt was life, coursing through her veins, and it was wonderful! She was a child again . . . reborn. Her heart was hammering in her chest, louder and louder. Oh the pain, the searing, screeching, strangling fist of pain. It floored her, like a knockout punch.
Sunshine winked through the waving green arms of the trees. Her blurred vision just made out the gleaming silver river, still so far away, out of reach. A single, golden autumn leaf danced in the breeze, before surrendering to the earth beside her.