Someone Else's Conflict by Alison Layland

Author:Alison Layland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
ISBN: 111-1-11-111111-1
Publisher: Honno Press
Published: 2014-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Marilyn woke to an empty bed. As she realised that the space beside her was cold and empty, she wondered if he’d been suffering his night terrors again and crept out of their bed to his sleeping bag in the spare room. But as she came fully awake she recalled the growing foreboding of the previous evening’s endless wait. On her way downstairs she glanced into the spare room, still vainly hoping to see the huddled shape of his sleeping bag. There was certainly more space after her clearout, but no one had been there. The armchair downstairs that had become his was also untouched. She’d told herself throughout not to get attached, but the hollow emptiness of absence hurt nevertheless.

Over breakfast she listened to the showers pattering occasionally against the windows as she relived the previous evening’s drive to the end of the lane to meet him off the bus, recalling the way her heart leapt as the wide-spaced headlights rounded the corner, the bright rectangles of the steamy windows brash and out of place in the dark countryside. Eagerly anticipating his pleasure and surprise as he saw her and realised he didn’t have to face the long walk to the cottage, she’d felt an intense wave of disappointment as the bus didn’t even slow. She’d driven to Holdwick, searched the emptying, orange-lit market square and scanned the road on the way back for the eerie movement of the reflective strip on his jacket in her headlights.

Now, in the clear light of morning, the recollection reawakened her growing concern, which she fended off with indignation and practicalities. If he didn’t come back she’d have to find someone to continue the building work. A good job it was a Sunday, allowing her to postpone the difficult decisions until a more reasonable time to be phoning round. She glanced frequently towards the kitchen window over her breakfast toast and coffee. A sudden rattle sparked a hope of his hand on the latch, until she realised it was the cat flap. Genghis made a noisy entrance, his demands for food like a strident reproach.

‘You know there’ll be a good reason for it,’ she told the cat, trying to convince herself of it as she rose to feed him and go about her morning routine.

As she crossed the living room she paused in front of the pictures. Two matching frames she’d found during the big clearout yesterday. She’d returned the souvenirs of a holiday in Tuscany with Matt to the album, so she could use the frames for the pictures Jay had brought. The Rock Sequence, he’d called them with a laugh. A couple of days ago they’d allowed themselves a break and set off to explore the moors. She could still feel the freshness of the wind, the earthy peat beneath their feet, the expanse of blue-grey sky keeping guard. The rocky outcrop showed no signs of habitation despite its fort-like appearance, but they drank in its atmosphere all the same, taking photos of one another.

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