When Moni had mentioned her idea about the three of them opening a clinic, Iman had been able to visualise herself as the receptionist. The one welcoming the patients, taking down appointments, being the first point of contact. But there were bad feelings now between the three of them. And Iman could not stand this atmosphere, it made her feel suffocated.
To be a tree or a squirrel, to be a pond or a fish, to be moving and living. Iman wished for another kind of existence, beauty that wasn’t a responsibility, needs that could be easily fulfilled. Why was I born human? I don’t want it! She walked faster, certain now that she did not want Salma to catch up with her, did not want the sort of conversations aimed at pulling her back to the cosy past. They were on the blue trail, but when Iman came across the next wooden sign dabbed with blue, she hesitated. She could follow it or head in a completely different direction. To stay on the blue trail meant that Salma and Moni would catch up with her. They would find a picnic area, sit down and eat their sandwiches. Moni would fuss over the sandwiches because she had made them. She would expect some show of appreciation or at least acknowledgement for her efforts. How tired Iman was of all this.
Moni was struggling to keep up a decent pace. With every step, she lagged further behind the other two. At least I don’t feel cold, she thought. When they had first stepped out of the cottage, she had felt the fresh breeze on her face like a smack. Now she needed it on her flushed cheeks, swallowed it in gulps. At least the floating jellyfish and sharp black spots that usually beset her when she exerted herself hadn’t yet made an appearance. If they blocked her vision, she would stop walking. She would give up and just sit on the floor of the forest, leaning her back against a tree. Now she must keep walking. Around her, the trees rose high and the sunlight needed to work hard to filter through them. The forest would always be damp and fungal, sour-smelling. Moni knew she did not belong here, but this was the last full day in the loch. They would be at the Glencarron estate tomorrow. That was bound to be memorable, especially now that she had read Lady Evelyn’s book and been touched by her special friendship with her grandson, Toby. They had been so close that he had asked to be buried next to her. Moni trudged along after the others. Knowing herself, she guessed that she would forget this forest. It would slide from her memory. She would, though, always remember Adam. He was the loch and the loch was him, and all these past days were about him. He would stay in her memory while the physical features of the loch would blur and mix up with photos she had seen or with scenes from television. She might remember the interior of the cottage, the kitchen where she had spent most of her time. Most likely she would also remember the refectory in the monastery, the dense feeling in the place. She had been looking for Adam that day and he had suddenly walked through the door.
The memory made her smile. The boy was the best that the loch had offered, the highlight, the pulse. She must see him later today to hug him goodbye. That’s right, think of pleasant things to take your mind off the ordeal of walking. It would be good to become old and infirm, she thought, free to indulge her natural laziness. No one would expect much of her then. She could spend the whole day in bed or in an armchair watching television. But resting was not for Adam’s mother. Her days were a variation of this walk, pointless effort, on and on. She missed him, missed his skin and presence, all the rituals she had built around his care. Most likely, no matter how fast Salma drove, they would arrive back in the city in the evening, well past teatime and it might be too late to bring Adam home. She would spend the night alone in the flat and then first thing the following morning take the bus to the nursing home. But if they set out from the loch first thing in the morning, there would be time to pick up Adam. Did they need to stay until twelve noon, the time they had agreed with Mullin, to hand over the keys and have him help with their suitcases? Perhaps he would walk around checking that everything in the cottage was in order before taking them across in the ferry. Had he not said that everything in the cottage must be as they had found it? Moni sighed. The kitchen needed attention.
It was the perfect excuse to stop walking. Salma, who was a little ahead of her, turned. ‘Are you all right?’
Moni, panting, explained why she needed to return to the cottage. Salma tried to dissuade her. ‘The kitchen can wait. I will help you.’ Moni shook her head. She handed the sandwiches to Salma. She turned her back and was
