The boat was unpleasant, but they were surrounded by beauty. A glory that made Salma feel light-headed. Leaving the car behind meant that she lost one of her capabilities, a bit of her authority, and now instead there was a strange freedom from bulk, the necessary space ready to take in a blast of visual stimulation enough to make her unsteady. Iman, the only one of them who didn’t cringe from Mullin’s proximity and stood near him, began to hear more clearly than ever the vibration of water, the timbre of white, notes for purple, green, grey and the constant low pitch of the mountains. Even Moni, who was never moved by nature, felt grateful that she wasn’t blind.
Disembarking, Salma had to concentrate on Mullin’s voice as he gave them information about their accommodation and the loch in general. His voice was low and she struggled with his accent, too intimidated to ask him to repeat himself. The nearest shops were seven miles away. From the outside, their stone-built cottage looked very much like the picture she had seen online, red sloping roof and green door. Inside, it had low ceilings and pine furniture, chequered curtains and a bright kitchen. It was even prettier than expected. She was relieved. Moni, the hardest one of them to impress, smiled with approval. Mullin showed them how to use the wood-burning stove. He answered their questions. Yes, the mobile phone signal should be okay. Yes, there were other families staying on the estate. In turn, he did not seem curious about them except to assume that Iman was Salma’s daughter.
That’s new, thought Salma, slamming the door of the cottage after him. I look that old! She found that the other two had already chosen their rooms. There were only two. The downstairs one was larger with twin beds. Up in the attic was a smaller single room. Salma assumed that she would share with Iman and Moni would be alone upstairs, but it turned out that Iman had fallen in love with the attic. Besides, as she explained to Salma, with a completely straight face, no hint of mockery, the room was so narrow that Moni would hardly be able to squeeze into the doorway.
Usually Moni did not like new places. Change and different scents disrupted her equilibrium. She protected herself by ignoring her surroundings as much as possible, but moving to a new place had forced her to adjust. The surprise of having to share with Salma made her more energetic than she would have normally been. She set about unpacking, but not before running her fingers over the shelves and hangers in the cupboard. Not a speck of dust or grime. The sheets on the bed smelt fresh and clean. There was a rough woollen rug on the floor, which she suspected of not being hygienic enough. She moved it to Salma’s side of the room. If they were going to be here a whole week, then it was important that she make herself comfortable. She was marking her territory. Her bed, her side of the cupboard; prayer clothes and mat on top of the one chair in the room. Prayer clothes and mats were communal property, borrowed without permission or hesitation, but still Moni preferred to have her own. She kept them spotlessly clean and regularly rubbed a solid perfume cube on her mat on the spot where her nose touched the ground. It was always pleasant to touch down to fragrance, to rise up with the lingering scent of musk.
Iman could not believe how perfect her room was, as if it were specially made for her. The size of it, the sloping protective roof, the way the window was just over the bed so that she could lie down and see not just the sky but everything else – the hills and the water, a path that led to the forest and, far away, more sky and the tips of mountains. There was a dressing table and over it an old-fashioned pitcher and basin, both painted with the same scene of a princess – Iman assumed she was a princess or at the very least a noble lady – standing under a tree. She was surrounded by flowers bigger than the tree. Long flowing skirt and curled hair piled on top. A bird was perched on her wrist, wings spread out as if it was ready to take flight.
There was a small cupboard in the room and when Iman opened it she found it full of clothes. But these weren’t ordinary clothes, they were costumes. A nurse, a witch, a kimono, Batgirl complete with cape and mask and, best of all, a princess. The princess gown was sky-blue, and it had silver gloves to match. The gloves were long, reaching up to the elbow. The skirt of the gown took up most of the space in the cupboard. At the bottom were packets of dried fruit and nuts and biscuits labelled ‘Meal Replacement’. They came in chocolate, banana, vanilla and orange flavour. Suddenly hungry, she ate one of them. It was chewy and satisfying. The pain Ibrahim had caused her was a small black tangle inside, undigested, like something she shouldn’t have eaten. But as she lay back, she found the soft mushy biscuit covered the black tangle so that it no longer touched the walls of her stomach. The biscuit was therapeutic, it was on her side against the pain. It was there to help her.
Salma went for a walk. She wanted to see where the phone signal was strongest. Despite what Mullin had said, it was weak in the cottage. She walked towards the water, finding the air warmer the further she went along the path. It was smooth at first and then became twisted and unclear, and she kept looking behind her every once in a while to memorise the route so that she could find her way
