Sure enough, Orla managed to sleep and, when she awoke, she whistled for One Ear and they left the castle together. A walk on the beach always restored her spirits after a rough night. There was something deeply comforting about the sea and, for some time, her world would be focused on the waves, the sand and the stones. Nothing else existed.
Every so often, Orla would bend to pick up a particular stone that had been waiting, hundreds of thousands of years, just for her to find it. Maybe its perfectly round shape appealed to her eye or its elongated body fit snugly in the palm of her hand, or perhaps the flat surface was fingertip friendly and perfect for skimming. Her favourite stones were the ones that simply felt right. She thought of them as good holding stones – companions for her seaside walk. She’d pick them up and dance her fingers around them while she was walking or quickly drop them in favour of another, prettier, stone, her affinity to the previous one quickly forgotten. Nature’s gift was a pocket full of pebbles.
One Ear wasn’t interested in stones. He preferred a bit of driftwood to carry or half a crab’s shell to crunch into splinters, or simply to chase the seagulls, scattering them seawards to a chorus of delighted barks.
Orla took it all in – walking, breathing and emptying her head of the assaults of her nightmare. The salty sea breeze was a great balm to a troubled mind and she refused to let the fears of the night carry over into the day. But there was another darkness filling her mind that morning – the loss of Helen. She was still in shock at having been told that her friend had been killed, and she could only imagine what Luke must be going through. Orla only wished now that she’d got to know Helen better. They’d exchanged many messages, but they’d always been so guarded. Or at least Orla’s had been. That had been deliberate on her part. It was a miracle at all that she’d connected with Helen in the way she had. She hadn’t talked to anybody else on Galleria in the same way, and yet there’d always been that part of her that hadn’t revealed itself. She kind of regretted that now because the opportunity to really get to know her friend had been taken away from her.
She looked out at the sea again, knowing that regrets were useless and that the past could never be changed, but how she wished she could go back and reach out just that little bit more. Luke had told her how much her words of encouragement had meant to Helen and the sweet gift that Helen had chosen for her meant the world to her, but she couldn’t help feeling that there was more she could have done and more that she could have shared.
Luke was up when she got back to the castle.
‘How are you?’ Orla asked.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I slept well.’
Orla took this in, wondering if sleepwalkers ever knew they had been sleepwalking. She thought it better that she didn’t mention it. He certainly looked okay.
‘Been to the beach?’ he asked her.
‘Yes.’
‘I thought I’d pop out later. Get to know the village a bit.’
Orla nodded. That was, after all, normal behaviour, wasn’t it?
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Nothing from the local shop?’ he asked, and she shook her head. ‘You want to come with me?’
‘No.’ Her answer was blunt, but she needed him to know that there was no compromise to be made here. She’d already asked him, politely, not to question the way she chose to live.
‘I’ll get a bit of work done first and then take a breather later. Let me know if you change your mind.’
‘I won’t. Change my mind, I mean,’ she said, feeling flustered.
‘Okay.’ Luke nodded, smiled and then left the room, and Orla immediately felt guilty for sounding so rude. But better to be rude than unsafe, she told herself.
Luke walked down the little hill towards the market square he’d driven into when he’d first arrived in Lorford. It was a beautiful June morning, with a clear blue sky, and the swifts were at play, screeching high above the rooftops. Luke took some good, deep breaths of summer air. It felt good to be out of the castle. He hadn’t been completely honest with Orla; he’d felt a little rough that morning, as if he hadn’t slept well, and yet he had no recollection of having woken in the night. He just felt unrested somehow. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling. Ever since the night of the train crash, Luke had found his relationship with sleep had become patchy at best. Sometimes, he was able to lose himself in a heavy and deep sleep, only to wake up feeling even more exhausted than before, and other nights he’d be restless, getting up every hour or so and then waking red-eyed and thick-headed in the morning. Maybe more walking would go some way to helping him sleep better, he thought. He was certainly in the right place, with the beach and the footpaths he’d spotted which led out across the fields and reed beds. Although a little voice told him that you couldn’t outwalk your grief.
He paused for a moment, glancing back at the castle. He’d been hoping that Orla would feel some sort of obligation towards her guest and come with him to show him around Lorford, but he was beginning to realise that it was more likely to
