Talissa was in Boston, at a conference about the future of human teaching in an age when almost all high school classes were run by AI tutors. Like most such events she’d been to, it was interesting and dispiriting in equal measure.
In the morning, she got an autonomous cab to the Airtube 4 Terminus in Boston for the return journey to New York. She had never used a hyperloop before and was feeling nervous.
‘It’s easy,’ Susan Kovalenko had told her. ‘You must have seen film of those things they used to have in hospitals and department stores? When someone shoves a little canister into a pneumatic tube and it kind of whooshes away to another part of the building?’
‘I guess so. In an old movie maybe.’
‘Well, it’s like that.’
This wasn’t reassuring. When Talissa arrived at the terminus she felt rather as she had done on going to have her first medical tests in London all those years ago: determined but powerless. There was a well-ventilated atrium with tall potted plants and, every seventy seconds, the bleep of air exchange. She stood in line for ten minutes, impressed by the calm of her fellow passengers. Some were absorbed by their headsets, others were chomping through odourless food as they waited. There were no human staff.
When her turn came, Talissa walked through a beam, which read her metrics and scanned her case contents. A voice directed her to a seat on the descender. She was clasping her bag to her midriff rather like an old lady, she thought, as the slick paternoster conveyed her down to platform level. It’ll be no worse than the old subway, she told herself, though the tunnels on the downtown express from the Bronx had always had a reassuring space between the train and the wall.
She was on Canister 5, seat 39, a place that had been selected for her on the grounds of weight distribution throughout the Loop. Larger passengers were seeded evenly for balance. A display in the headrest confirmed her name; the retractable safety straps had been set to her size and short instructions came on repeat through the wraparound that dropped from the rack above.
Trussed and ready, she closed her eyes, still for some reason thinking of Dr Worthington and her ‘holiday snaps’ in Russell Square. There was a thunderous clank as the vacuum sealed; then, beneath her seat, she felt a hydraulic pillowing. The entertainment screen lit up, offering a choice of recent animations. There was no Fearless Frieda story, sadly, to take her mind off the sensation of travelling at 550 miles per hour, her spine driven against the seat back.
From the Bronx terminus, she got a cab home and packed for the supersonic flight to London. Plans for a Transatlantic Passenger Hyperloop had been put to one side because of cost overruns, though a smaller tube could carry goods beneath the seabed. With hand baggage only at Obama Airport, the travel process had become easier; the flight time to London was only a little over two hours. The drawback was that, for weight reasons, the plane had no windows, so the passengers were invited to watch a film of the outside world on their screens instead.
Talissa closed her eyes. In the months since the trial, the public discussion had focused on the scientific value of the data gathered from Seth’s life. There seemed to be a wide understanding that it was only molecular chance that had led to the existence of modern humans; and how it could have been subtly otherwise, with a similar but saner and more integrated creature evolving from the same raw material. There had been broadcasts and essays and public discussion, debates in the US Senate and in the Second Chamber in Britain, that had understood the issues and argued for a greater tolerance as a result: for the acceptance of variety, for the dignity of all humankind –– or at least for its sole surviving expression.
The trouble was that hardly anyone read or watched these things. They were too complicated. To judge from the virtual chatter, the thing that caught people’s imagination was the sci-fi possibilities of an ‘improved’ genome, more sex and a longer life. At least there was the resolution just passed by the UN’s new medical council, which had required its member states to sign up to a ban on laboratory hybridisation. In a largely deregulated and money-driven world, such treaties were unlikely to stop another Lukas Parn, but they were something positive to point to, some consolation.
The cabin staff brought some water. Talissa settled back in her seat and tried to imagine what an uninhabited Scottish island would feel like.
Late the next morning, after a night at Kavya Gopal’s, she stood on the concourse of Euston International station, as arranged. She tried to make herself more visible, moving away from people who might be concealing her. Unable to eat since leaving Boston, she was starting to feel weak.
Come to me now, she thought. I am here. Her gaze went over shopfronts, trade names, to the entrances from the street and the Underground. Probably, he’d come from the pontoon where the water transport docked, but the sweep of her eyes couldn’t cover every corner of the station. She breathed out and looked at the ground. Come to me, now. There was a hand on her elbow, a polite brushing of her cheek. She sprang back, then forward as she held him, feeling his skin on hers.
‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘No, no. I just got a bit delayed saying goodbye to my parents.’
‘We need to move. I have seats at the front, where there won’t be so many people.’
‘My God, what have you got in there?’ said Seth, pointing to Talissa’s outsize pack.
‘Sleeping roll, lightweight tent, soluble food, fuel blocks … I’m an expert camper, don’t forget.’
‘Wasn’t it heavy?’
‘No, I sent it on by hyperloop.’
‘I’ll carry it. You take my little bag.’
As the train edged out through the Victorian cuttings, Talissa found herself opposite Seth with a strip of table between them. She wanted to stare and stare, but found it hard to meet his eye.
‘So,’ she said, pretending to look at her handset. ‘Are we all set for your little island?’
‘Yes,’ said Seth. ‘I spoke to John Rockingham and he’s been in touch with the local boatman. A man called Brodie. He says it should be OK at this time of year. Not too much of a swell.’
‘Good. You look a little different.’
‘Must be the moustache.’
‘I think you maybe need to lose that.’ It was hiding his skin.
‘Oh, I thought it was good.’
‘It looks like you bought a complete disguise from a shop. In with the glasses.’
‘Right.’
Talissa felt a little stronger. ‘Have you ever been to Glasgow?’ she said.
‘No.’
‘I booked a place. It looked quiet. Only five rooms.’
‘OK.’
‘Are you quite sure about this, Seth?’
‘I’ve always wanted to go to this island. To escape and be alone. And now I think … This is the moment.’
‘After the interview, were there any leaks about your appearance? No one took a picture of you?’
‘No. But …’
‘But what?’
‘At the interview place … I did forget my mask and hat and glasses. For a second.’
‘And people saw you?’
‘Yes. But they were nice. Diane, the woman in the FAT lab. And the others.’
‘But someone could have taken a picture.’
‘I suppose it’s possible. Or I’m on the security footage or something, just for those few moments.’
‘Have your parents been troubled?’
‘No. But Catrina says she gets messages from scientists. Begging her. She says she gets followed. And … other things.’
A caterer came by with a trolley. Seth asked for a sandwich and some beer. Talissa looked away. ‘Water, please.’
She sat back and watched rectangles of England going by. ‘Have you switched off your handset?’ she said.
‘I left it with Catrina.’
‘Good. We’re going up the west coast. I have some paper maps. Susan got them for me.’
‘The house in Maine had a lot of those. I used to spread them out on the floor. They’re kind of … fascinating.’
‘Did you meet people there?’
‘I tried not to. But it was lonely.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My best friend was the talking car.’
Talissa had the impression he was holding something back.
Near Stafford, she became aware that a couple across the gangway were staring at them. They spoke quietly to each other, as if comparing notes, then looked back at Seth. It could be that they were passing the journey in harmless speculation: the age difference between Seth and her, the possible relationship … But their gaze seemed too intent.
Talissa leant across the table to whisper in Seth’s ear. ‘Don’t look now. Pretend you’re staring out the window …’
After a moment, she let go of his wrist and let him turn. When the train slowed down for Penrith, Talissa said quietly, ‘I think we should get off. I’ll find a place to stay.’
On the platform, she searched the options on her handset. They were on the edge of the North Lakes and everywhere seemed full for the holidays.
‘The only place with a room is this inn. Near Keswick. The Fox and Hounds.’
‘Keswick,’ said Seth. ‘That’s how they say it here. Not Kess-wick.’
From the cab, Talissa booked the last free room. The inn was in a small village at the bottom of a fell and the door opened on to a dark, empty bar with a flagged floor. They rang a handbell and waited until a man in an apron came through from the kitchen.
‘Kovak?’ he said. ‘You’re in room six. On the second floor. Do you need a hand with … All right. Just call down if you need anything.’
As they opened the bedroom door, Seth said, ‘Kovak?’
‘Can’t be too careful,’ said Talissa. ‘And it’s a homage. To Susan. Or nearly.’
‘There’s only one bed,’ said Seth.
‘Only one room,’ said Talissa. ‘Last one in the Lakes. But I’ll take the floor if you like.’
‘No, no. I will. It’s fine.’
At dinner downstairs, Talissa said, ‘I think it’s better that we take a car from here. More private.’
‘It’ll cost a fortune,’ said Seth.
‘Parn’s paying. He gave me money.’
‘Catrina said Parn’s lawyers have appealed against his sentence.’
‘I heard that, too,’ said Talissa. ‘They’re confident they’ll get it suspended. They’ll increase the fine to compensate, but that won’t hurt him.’
They drank a bottle of wine with dinner and it made Talissa more relaxed. Her appetite returned and she ordered dessert, an apple tart, to counteract the wine. When they climbed the stairs, she felt resigned. The assault of emotions she had never known and couldn’t name had left her unsure of what to do.
‘You can have the duvet as a mattress,’ she said. ‘It’s hot, so I won’t need it on the bed.’
In the bathroom, she stood beneath the strong, warm shower with her eyes closed. She thought of Susan watching her with that look of quizzical concern. When she was as clean as a newborn, she brushed her teeth and gargled with two different products. She arranged her black hair casually and put on a long T-shirt that reached almost to her knees.
‘All yours,’ she said, taking a book from her bag. While Seth was in the bathroom, she turned off the overhead light. The bedside lamps gave a softer glow as she settled back against the pillows.
She heard the shower and the basin, then the sliding lock. She looked over the top of her reading glasses. ‘All good?’
‘Yes. I borrowed some of your toothpaste. Hope that’s OK.’
He had shaved off the moustache so she could see the skin of his face. He wore pyjama trousers and a T-shirt. He lay down on the duvet.
‘Shall I turn off the light?’ said Talissa.
‘Sure.’
She rolled across the bed to reach the far lamp, feeling her own T-shirt rise up her thighs while she fumbled for the switch.
At Keswick the next morning, they hired a car from the station and strapped themselves in side by side.
‘Best if I give the instructions,’ said Seth.
The car took them silently up the old motorway into the Lowlands.
‘Lanarkshire,’ said Seth. ‘Famous for its coalfields. Once upon a time. Dad said.’
‘I don’t see any. And I don’t see any people either. Just a few sheep.’
Shortly after Glasgow, the narrow road began to run among woods by an inland sea. Seth looked up from his map. ‘Loch Lomond,’ he said.
‘It’s gigantic,’ said Talissa. ‘And how come you’re so good with maps?’
‘I did a year in the Scout cadets at school. Dad insisted.’
After another hour, the landscape began to change again, into a moorland of russet and sage. There were patches of heather and yet more lochs, smaller ones. The weather seemed to cast a different light at almost every bend in the road, showers yielding to sunshine, then low cloud as rain beat the windscreen again.
‘So many lochs,’ said Seth. ‘There’s even one called Loch Lochy. Do you think they ran out of names?’
Talissa kept looking out of the window. Now there were mountains – not just hills but monsters with cascades above the treeline. At one moment it reminded her of Yosemite, the next it looked more like Wyoming.
They stopped in a village – though why there was a village here, rather than at any other spot in the empty landscape, was impossible to say. Once a marketplace for farmers, she imagined … Except there was no farming, no crops or signs of cultivation.
‘Perhaps before the Highland Clearances,’ Seth said when she asked. ‘Crofters had their own smallholdings and might meet up here. Who knows? At least there’s a bar.’
Inside, Seth ordered pizza from the menu on a board. There was nothing that Talissa wanted. A group of men sat at a table, watching horses race on a screen. They were drinking beer from huge glasses they brought back to the bar to be refilled. They hardly talked. Seth watched and plumped for number five in the paddock.
As Talissa sipped her drink, she felt the eyes of two of the men on her. It was hard to know if it was a reflex estimation of her appeal, or if there was something else that drew their gaze. It made her uneasy. If these men in this wilderness, in the midst of their gallons of beer and betting, had somehow recognised Seth, then how much more remote would they need to be until they were safe?
The car took them onwards to the north. Still the terrain kept shifting with the swoop and roll of the road. There were coniferous forests growing up the mountainsides, abandoned ski stations on snowless slopes, then in a moment silvery rivers pouring over white boulders. Sheep with black faces stood in the middle of the road, sensing no danger.
Seth was asleep, perhaps tired from his night on the floor or from the glass of black beer he had drunk. His head leant against Talissa’s shoulder. For an instant she felt maternal – if tenderly protective was what mothers felt. Perhaps her desire to consume him body and soul was in some way immoral or taboo. Yet they were less related by blood than any two humans on earth for tens of thousands of years. They could not be any more unrelated. So she told herself, again, as she touched his thick hair.
After seven hours in the car, they found the guest house a short way outside the port. Again, it was the only room Talissa had been able to find: the cooler weather of Scotland was making it more popular each year. There was no reception area or desk, just the windowless hallway of someone’s downstairs, with the scent of old cooking.
‘I’m Olivia,’ said the owner. ‘Follow me upstairs, please.’
On the landing there were three numbered doors. Olivia turned a handle. ‘Here we are. It’s a double bed. Is that going to be all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Talissa, looking away.
‘The fan’s not working, but you can open the window. It’s a nice view over the loch.’
‘It’s a very nice view.’ A vertical herringbone of cloud rose from a blue hill over the water.
‘You close the blind with this little chain. It can be temperamental.’
On the window sill was a pink paper orchid in a plastic pot.
‘The shower works on an electric heater, so you just turn it on. We don’t use the bath.’
‘What time is breakfast?’ said Seth.
‘Did you book in for it?’ said Olivia.
‘Not specifically,’ said Talissa. ‘I thought we’d—’
‘In that case, it’s not included. I’m on my own here.’
‘I see,’ said Talissa. ‘We’ll get something in town.’
When Olivia had gone, Seth said, ‘How many people does it take to boil a kettle?’
‘I guess there’ll be food on the boat. Don’t you think?’
‘Maybe haggis.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Sheep’s innards. With oats. You won’t like it.’
Talissa was looking at the bed. ‘It’s my turn to take the floor,’ she said.
‘The bed’s quite wide,’ said Seth. ‘I could guarantee not to move around. I fall asleep at once. So everyone says.’
‘Everyone?’
‘Mum. Rosalie. Wilson, when I shared a tent with him in the Scouts.’
‘I’ll ask Olivia where’s good for dinner,’ said Talissa, her voice bright with relief.
They walked into the port. There was a single string of whitewashed houses along the shore of the loch, which, a mile or so to the west, opened on to the sea. Although there were signs of activity at the deep dock, an air of farewell hung over the town, an end-of-continent sadness.
A few other alleys had sprung up behind the front, and at the foot of one was the place that Olivia had recommended. It was a big, open room, with bare floorboards and Scottish music, live bands twice a week according to a board. Seth ordered a venison burger and Talissa some ravioli.
‘Shall we drink wine again?’ said Seth. ‘I liked what we had in Keswick.’
‘I don’t know much about wine,’ said Talissa. ‘Let’s ask the guy.’
The waiter spent a few minutes at the table and talked about varietals and growers in more detail than the brief list seemed to need. A man of about sixty with glasses and a high voice, he seemed reluctant to leave. He looked hard at Seth as he asked what kind of wine he liked.
‘Maybe just the cheapest red,’ Talissa said. ‘So long as it makes us feel drunk.’
The waiter didn’t smile at her joke, but did at last head off to the bar. The wine when it came tasted of vanilla and blackcurrants. After they’d eaten and the waiter came to take their plates, he lingered and said, ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you the laddie who—’
‘No!’ said Talissa, loudly through the wine. ‘He’s not. Please bring the check now.’
As they walked along the front, Talissa muttered, ‘What an asshole.’
‘Yeah,’ said Seth. ‘What an utter dick.’
She found that she had taken Seth’s arm and that, courteously, he had not resisted. For a hundred yards or so, they traded insults for the waiter.
‘Cocksucker,’ said Seth. ‘Sorry. Was that too much?’
‘No. Not for that schmuck.’
Seth stopped suddenly. ‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ he said. He put his face close to hers and she could smell the sweet blackcurrant of the wine and some toffee ice cream on his breath. ‘Something that happened in Maine.’
When he had finished the story of the fire and his flight from Boston, they stood staring over the water in silence.
‘Where did you go?’
‘Cleveland. It was the first flight I could get on. I didn’t know anything about the place, but I was there for a week before I came to London. I moved each day. I tried to fit in, but I felt I looked different. I ended up in a room near the lake.’
‘You did the right thing.’
‘I don’t know if I can survive feeling constantly … pursued. I’m not sure it’s worth living like that.’
She held his arm. ‘We’re going to our own island now.’
They let themselves back into the guest house, using a code on the door, and went quietly upstairs. Seth took the first shower while Talissa arranged the bed, stacking a pair of pillows on either side, with a wide neutral space between. When it was her turn in the bathroom, she noticed he had once again helped himself to her toothpaste. She dried her skin carefully and pulled on a clean T-shirt. It was not as long as the previous one, so she slipped on some underpants. The first ones that came out of her bag happened to be new, ivory with a lace trim. Seth’s bedside light was out when she went back and he seemed already to be in a state of motionless sleep.
Talissa left her book unread and turned off her own light, moving delicately so as not to wake him. She closed her eyes and tried not to inhale the fresh smell of him or to think of that glowing skin.
‘Are you OK?’ she heard him say a few minutes later.
‘Yes,’ she said thickly.
‘I thought you were crying. I thought I felt a sort of trembling through the springs.’
‘No. Sleep well.’
It was still dark when they started the car and drove the short way to the ferry port. Three lines of vehicles, most of them delivery trucks, had already been boxed into lanes by men in fluorescent bibs and were waiting, their headlights holding the fine drizzle. Talissa had booked ahead and now went over the road to the terminal building to buy a ticket for her foot passenger. She hoped in this way to avoid giving his name. In the strip-lit hall, two women sat behind a desk, sipping from cardboard cups. Clearly they had been at work for hours. One of them put down her coffee and tapped on a keyboard till a ticket shot across the pass.
Back in the car, they were next to a truck of baled hay, four rows of eight identical fat cylinders, in two tiers lashed to attention. The islands were barren, Talissa had read, but the livestock needed to be fed. When they boarded the ferry, the top of the hay truck passed under the gantry with a foot’s clearance. The efficiency impressed her, but her main question was unanswered. In a country whose terrain was so harsh and unpopulated, why had some chosen to make their lives yet more difficult by settling on an island even less hospitable than the mainland? The mad Sapiens drive.
They climbed the metal stairs to a passenger lounge, where Talissa sat by a window and Seth went to explore the chance of breakfast.
Dawn was breaking as the ferry lumbered out of the port. Talissa looked at the thin line of whitewashed houses as they started to recede. She thought of grandmothers hundreds of years ago waving a last goodbye to children and grandchildren they would never see again as their slow ships began the crossing of the Atlantic. There had been no day in her adult life when she had not wondered at humans and their journeyings.
Seth came back to the table, carrying a tray of food.
‘I got you some porridge,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d like that. And tea.’
‘Did they have haggis?’
‘No.’
‘What’s that thing?’
‘Black pudding.’
‘Is that also made from sheep’s guts?’
‘No, it’s pig’s blood.’
‘Oh. Is that better?’
‘I’ll let you know.’
They could see the swell of the sea around them. To the north was a run of blue-brown hills that rose from the water like the vertebrae of a half-submerged monster.
‘I’m going up above,’ said Talissa. ‘On deck.’
It was harder to walk than she’d expected and she had to hold on to screwed-down tables as she crossed the lounge to the stairs. Out on the top deck were rows of empty plastic seats and some orange lifeboats hanging from the side. She was starting to make out the island ahead of them when she saw five dolphins in an arrowhead, pursuing them. There seemed a driven purpose in their movements as they followed their target, part fish, part torpedo, shouldering the waves.
The port on the island was like an ordinary town, with schools and parks, but a mile to the south all signs of civilisation disappeared. There were still fingerposts on the road, but no settlements they could see. The rain intensified and the car seemed wary, dropping its pace. Two sheep huddled together in an old bus shelter.
‘I think we’ll be alone here,’ said Seth.
As the rain retreated, they saw the treeless landscape more clearly. There were large hills and small lakes. But more striking than either were the dark boulders that lay over all the countryside, as if thousands of years ago a generation of giants had been interrupted in a game and had had no time to clear up. They had vanished from the earth and no subsequent inhabitants had had the strength to move their granite playthings.
After an hour of driving, they saw some buildings. ‘I’m hungry,’ said Seth. ‘Let’s see if we can find something here.’
There was a cluster of houses, one of which was a shop, though it was closed. A little way up the hill was what looked like a hotel.
At the reception desk, behind some glass, a woman asked if they were looking for a room.
‘No, we wanted to eat. Is it too late for lunch?’ said Seth.
‘We’re waiting for a food delivery from the mainland just now.’
‘Do you have, like, potato chips?’ said Talissa.
‘We have a bar. Through that door.’
They went into a small room with wood-panelled walls. Above the bar were hundreds of bottles of whisky.
‘This is great,’ said Seth. ‘Do you have any crisps?’
‘I think so,’ said the barmaid, bending down to look.
‘I’ll bring them,’ said Talissa. ‘And some drinks. You sit down.’
She brought over some whisky for him and some beer for herself. The crisps were soft. Seth looked at the packet and saw that they were two months out of date.
‘There is plenty of food on our own island, isn’t there?’ said Talissa.
‘Yes. In the bothy. So Brodie said. But let’s see if we can get some supplies of our own. If we see a shop.’
‘A shop?’ Talissa raised an eyebrow.
Half an hour later, they arrived in the village where they had arranged to meet their man. A dozen houses were clustered round a stone jetty that stuck out into the bay. There were a few small boats moored against it and a larger one with a wheelhouse and an inboard engine.
‘That’ll be us,’ said Seth.
There was a corrugated iron shack selling tweed and, next to it, a closed café. In something called the An Clachan community centre, among the souvenirs and craftworks, there was a food section, where they loaded a basket with tins of tuna and fruit, beans and sealed packets of biscuits, cakes and tea.
‘Can you eat eggs?’
‘Yes,’ said Talissa. ‘If it’s that or canned peas.’
‘But how are we going to cook them?’
‘I have ways.’ Talissa pointed at her weighty pack. ‘And a pan in there.’
They left the car in a deserted area at the end of the road. Then they took their box of food and their bags down onto the jetty to wait for their boatman. They were to meet at four and it was a two-hour trip to the island, where the tide needed to be high when they docked. The rain had cleared, at least for five minutes, and the sky to the west was blue.
‘God, this is beautiful,’ said Talissa, her legs dangling against the stonework of the jetty. She thought of the grid of Harlem streets round her brownstone as she leant her head for a moment on Seth’s shoulder.
To their surprise, the boatman arrived on time. A small, muscular man in a yellow waterproof jacket, he shook hands and helped them load their bags. He smiled often, but struggled to keep a note of incredulity from his voice.
‘And you’ll be staying how long?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Seth. ‘As long as it takes.’
‘You’ve got enough stores,’ said Brodie, looking at Talissa’s pack.
‘Will we be left alone?’ she said.
‘No one’s lived there for a hundred years,’ said Brodie. ‘In the beginning there were priests.’
‘But there are visitors, right?’
‘Only twice a year. When they go and cull the deer.’
‘Is the weather going to stay fine?’ said Talissa.
‘Aye. It’s much warmer than when I was young. Though it never settles for long. Some things don’t change.’
‘We’ve noticed. Every hour a new adventure.’
The boat’s motor made a gurgling, bass sound as Brodie backed off the jetty. When he was clear, he swung round and headed west, towards the open water, the engine pitch rising.
Once they were out of the bay, they began to notice the swell. Brodie’s thudding boat was less stable than the ferry, but it ploughed on with a will of its own. The noise drowned any hope of speech, so they stayed silent, with their eyes on the horizon.
After about an hour, a tiny rock came into view, then grew bigger as they approached. No other land was visible in the ocean, not the island they had left, not the mainland, not even a gull-tormented outcrop, nothing but their own last refuge. Brodie brought the boat close to a cliff, and as they came alongside they saw a flat surface with some iron rings driven into the rock. Brodie cut the engine and jumped onto the natural platform, holding a rope with which he secured the boat. They passed up the packs and the box of food, then he helped them ashore. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
The cliff was not as steep as it had looked from the sea and there was a path with bits of shingle and broken stone that helped their grip. At the top, they paused for breath and Brodie pointed inland.
‘You see that wee building in the distance there? That’s the bothy. On the far side, after a couple of minutes’ walk, it goes down to a beach. You can swim if you like, but watch the current. Don’t go out deep.’
‘How far is it?’
‘The island’s three quarters of a mile at the widest. But you’ll get a good walk if you go round the hill there. You can drink the water from the wee stream. You may see some cattle. Keep away. They’re wild. They can trample you.’
‘OK,’ said Talissa. ‘So we just …’
‘Aye. You’re on your own. I’d come with you, but I have to catch the tide. I’ll see you in six days. Same time.’
Brodie disappeared from view under the rim of the cliff.
‘I’d like to sleep outside tonight,’ Talissa said. ‘But let’s take a look at this bothy place.’
Seth hitched her pack onto his back and picked up the box of food.
The path across the top of the island was damp with the recent rain, but there were no human footprints, only the marks of some cloven hooves and the paws of rabbits. There were no gates or fences, no claim on the land. Halfway across, they stopped to look around them. There was nothing to see but the occasional edge of white foam in the infinite grey sea.
A little out of breath, they dropped their bags outside the building and pushed open the plank door. Inside was a single room, with an improvised fireplace and chimney at one end. The floor was flagged with the same stone as the walls, with grass instead of mortar in the joints. A raised divan with wooden sides, hardly a bed, had some straw in it. There was a table and a metal tank fed by water from a pipe connected to the gutter on the roof. Someone had nailed some shelves to upright pieces of timber and on these were some supplies for the deer cullers – tinned foods, candles, soap and two bottles of whisky.
‘I like it,’ said Seth. ‘I’m going to find the beach.’
‘Did you bring matches?’ said Talissa.
‘Shit. I forgot.’
‘I’ll take a look around. Don’t be away too long.’
‘Are you frightened?’
‘Hell yeah. I’m a city girl.’
‘But you said you loved camping.’
‘With a car and a freeway close at hand.’
‘I’ll be ten minutes.’
In his absence, Talissa tried not to behave like a wife, or a mother. She prepared no welcome tea for his return, though she did find some matches on a ledge inside the chimney. Now that it had stopped raining, it was a warm August evening. It ought to be possible to sleep outside, she thought, away from the torment of his closeness, so long as the insects weren’t too bad.
He took a little more than the ten minutes, but was smiling when he came in. ‘There’s a beach,’ he said. ‘It’s got sand and lots of stone, seaweed, quite rough. But it seems sheltered. The ground goes down quite slowly, so we could swim off it.’
Talissa frowned. ‘Please don’t laugh at me, Seth, but I never learned to swim. The public pool was miles away when I was a kid. We never went on holiday to a beach or anything like that. My dad died when I was young and—’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Seth. ‘I can’t swim either.’
‘Oh.’ Talissa looked down at the table. ‘Shall we try to make a fire? To cook something?’
‘Yes, I’ll find some fuel. There’s a pile of something over there. Is it peat? I’ll make you a bed outside if you still want that?’
‘What with?’
‘Any soft stuff I can find.’
‘Maybe we should try sleeping on the beach if there’s enough sand.’
‘Good idea,’ said Seth.
Unlike the place from which they’d come, where all the new growths and saplings were eaten by sheep, the new island did have a few stunted conifers. Seth found twigs and branches, some of which were dry enough to start a fire. They fried eggs in butter, using Talissa’s pan, and heated some beans. Seth took a bottle of whisky from the shelf.
‘We’d better get down to the beach while it’s still light,’ said Talissa. ‘Do you think it’ll get cold at night?’
‘No, but it’s sure to rain, don’t you think?’
‘Then we’ll come back inside. I’m taking a sweater anyway.’
The beach had black stones among the volcanic rocks but enough sand for Seth to clear a dry place for Talissa to sleep.
‘You could use sea wrack as a pillow,’ he said.
‘You won’t stay?’ she said.
‘I was thinking of the straw on the bed indoors.’
‘It’s getting dark.’
‘I’ll stay. Are you all right?’
She sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘It’s like the end of the world here. It’s like no one’s been here for a million years.’
‘I know.’
They lay down next to each other on the sand as the darkness fell.