Ava glugged Gaviscon from the bottle as they turned up the Old Military Road and went over Shiel Bridge. Heather was careful behind the wheel, if the camper blew a tyre or the exhaust fell off they were screwed. Ava looked out of the window. The mountains of Glencoe had been replaced by smaller hills covered in pine and fir. Low cloud hung over the peaks as they drove round the head of Loch Duich. Across the water was the main road to Skye they’d just left, lots of trucks and cars. But this road petered out further along the banks of the loch, empty apart from them.
Her heartburn eased but she felt anxiety rise in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to her sister in five years and hadn’t warned her they were coming.
‘There,’ she said to Heather, pointing to a turn-off.
They drove along the edge of the loch on the narrow lane, a strip of spread-out houses on their left, flat expanse of peaty-brown water on the right. The houses were a mix of new builds, older crofts and fishermen cottages, mossy pebble dash and pine panels, steep roofs for snow in the winter. She tried to remember what Freya’s place looked like. She’d only been here twice before she was married, and afterwards Michael had her locked down.
‘That’s it.’ She pointed for Heather to pull in opposite a bus stop. Ava tried to imagine a bus coming this way, it would barely make it along the lane.
She undid her seatbelt, turned to see Lennox asleep in the back next to Sandy. He’d slept the whole way from Glencoe.
‘Let him sleep,’ Heather said.
They got out. The smell of seaweed and the smirr hanging in the air made Ava feel like she was underwater, the low cloud like the underside of a thick ice floe.
Heather stretched her shoulders after the drive.
‘I’d better speak to her myself first,’ Ava said.
‘I thought this was a safe place for us?’
Ava shrugged.
Heather tilted her head. ‘Everything OK between you and your sister?’
‘I’m about to find out.’
She went to the front door. It was gloomy but still daylight and the house was dark. She looked for a doorbell then knocked. Felt a squirm from the baby, a flush of indigestion. She took a swig of Gaviscon and a deep breath.
She knocked again, glanced at Heather who was examining the timetable on the bus stop. She looked at the campervan and thought of Scooby Doo’s Mystery Machine. It wasn’t quite as conspicuous as that but not far off. The police had put out a picture of it. She wondered about Michael, if he was in hospital, if they were looking after him. Then she checked herself. He didn’t care about her.
The door opened and Freya stood in the doorway. She was shorter than Ava, curvier than she used to be. She had the same red hair but curly and thick, grown out since Ava last saw her. She wore a long-sleeve Animaniacs sweatshirt, faded and worn, and she smelled of weed. Ava’s stomach tightened.
‘The prodigal daughter,’ Freya said, staring at Ava’s belly. ‘Bearing a grandchild, no less.’
‘You don’t seem very surprised,’ Ava said, glancing behind. Heather stood watching from the van.
Freya raised her eyebrows. ‘I watch the news. I thought you might come.’
‘Why? We haven’t spoken in years.’
‘Because you’re on the run and I live in the middle of nowhere.’ She chuckled. ‘I almost shat myself when I saw your picture. On the run with a teenage schoolboy. Is this a Mrs Robinson thing?’
‘It’s not that.’
Freya nodded at the van. ‘Is he in there?’
‘Sleeping.’
‘Who’s the frazzled housewife?’
‘Heather.’
‘Are you solving mysteries now?’
Ava laughed. ‘Actually, maybe we are.’
Freya looked confused. ‘How are you connected to these people?’
Ava pictured Sandy inside the van, what they’d done to Michael. ‘It’s hard to explain.’
‘Try me.’
Ava felt the baby kick and straightened her shoulders. ‘I left Michael.’
Freya chewed her lip and stared at Ava for so long that she had to look away.
‘So you finally figured out what a piece of shit he is.’
Ava swallowed. ‘I always knew, deep down. But I couldn’t…’
She was dismayed to feel herself welling up, her breath catching in her throat.
‘Hey,’ Freya said.
Ava brought her hands to her face as if she could hold the sobs inside. She felt her daughter stretch, had a flash of panic at the thought of being responsible for someone else in the world. That made the crying worse.
She felt Freya’s arms around her, grabbed her sister and hugged. She remembered Freya coming out to her when they were teenagers. How she fancied Grace in the year above, but they couldn’t tell Mum, she wouldn’t understand. Freya had been the one crying then, and Ava hugged her until it stopped. It felt so comforting to be in her sister’s arms after all this time.
‘It’s OK,’ Freya whispered in her ear. ‘You’re safe here.’
And Ava did feel safe, for the first time in years.