‘Almost there.’ His words should give me comfort. They don’t.
I have to remind myself that differences of opinion don’t equate to danger. Cal believes in traditional gender roles. I don’t. We’re different, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s a threat.
We pass a ‘no trespassing’ sign and the cabin is soon visible in the distance. As we draw closer, I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Maybe it’s the way the dark sky presses down, oppressive, or how the wilderness seems too silent, holding its breath.
‘Beautiful, aye?’ Cal says, nodding at the cabin.
Beautiful isn’t exactly the word I’d choose. The loch, now that was beautiful. The cabin on the other hand looks old and rickety, somewhat cobbled together over the years. I can imagine the draughts coming through those walls.
‘Sure is.’ My voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears.
‘Wait until ye see inside. You’ll love it.’ There’s a promise in his words and I tilt my head towards him.
‘I really appreciate you letting me stay here for a few days while I sort out a long-term plan.’ He doesn’t respond to that. Unease prickles at my skin.
The cabin is just a stone’s throw away but Cal veers off the path. He parks up outside a separate building, a barn by the looks of things, and gets out of the truck. I do too, my shoes sinking into the unkempt grass as I do. I frown as Cal heads towards the door of the barn.
‘Are we not going to the cabin?’ I ask, my voice almost drowned by the wind.
‘There’s time for tha’. I want te show you somethin’ first.’
I hesitate, watching the distance grow between us, though what can I actually do? He’s got the keys to the truck in his pocket, and even if I managed to get hold of them and jump back in the truck I’ve got no idea where to go. I’d get lost before I even made it back to the loch. The reality of what I’ve done, running off with someone I’ve only known for weeks, suddenly weighs on me and I realise how stupid I’ve been. The moment he told me not to bother letting Mrs Henderson know where I was going replays in my mind.
‘Come on,’ he beckons, now a shadow against the barn’s entrance.
I move towards him, wrapping my arms around myself. Why the barn? What’s in there that couldn’t wait until the morning?
Cal steps aside, gesturing me into the dim interior with a sweep of his arm. Dust dances in the shafts of moonlight that pierce through the cracks in the aged wood, casting elongated shadows on the dirt floor. Animal carcasses are strung up to the left. I recoil and knock straight into Cal. His hands fly out to steady me, gripping onto the tops of my arms.
‘Easy there, lass. You’s a bit uptight, aren’t ye?’
I shake myself free from his grip.
‘Sorry. I wasn’t expecting the …’ My words are snatched from me as my gaze falls on an object draped over the side of an old tractor. A dress. Its fabric is a splash of pastel amidst the greys and browns.
Cal sees me looking and picks it up. It unfolds like a flag from a bygone era. Cinched waist, flared skirt, patterned with tiny flowers. ‘Thought you could slip into this. A little more fitting for being a guest, aye?’
‘I’m OK with what I’m wearing, thank you.’ The words stick in my throat. I want to be direct, assertive, but the air feels too thick to breathe.
His eyes meet mine, and they’re not the warm pools from before. They’re colder now. Harder.
‘It’s just a bit o’ fun. You’ll look right.’
‘Right?’ The word tastes bitter. ‘I didn’t realise there was a wrong way to dress for leaving your abusive husband.’
He steps closer and I inadvertently take a step away from him. ‘You’re a guest in my home. It’s a simple request. A dress. To show respect.’
I swallow hard, the fabric of my own clothes suddenly suffocating. This is nothing to do with respect. He wants me to play dress-up for his twisted fantasy.
‘Cal, you’re scaring me.’
He chuckles, the sound ricocheting around the hollow space, bouncing off the rusted tools and cobwebbed corners. ‘Scaring you? I saved you.’
His words crawl up my skin like spiders. Is Cal just as bad as Rich? Have I escaped from one hell straight into another?
‘Are ye not going to put it on, then?’ he asks.
A frigid draught sweeps through the barn and I pull my cardigan tighter around myself. My eyes dart towards the open door. But then, with a flicker of shadow Cal moves. The moonlight is snuffed out as the door swings shut, old hinges groaning.
‘Cal, please,’ I whisper. But he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he doesn’t want to.