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 surprised at how easy it was to exit this outing. Salma hadn’t protested as much as she thought she would. What a relief! Returning was much easier than starting out. Going down faster than climbing. She laughed a little, happy that Salma couldn’t hear her now.

It occurred to Moni that they should have left the loch a day ago, two days ago. They had stayed too long. Every holiday had a perfect length and then it turned into an indulgence, time sitting heavy on idle hands, the mind free to find fault with life left behind, too much friction between people, familiarity turning to contempt. Every holiday was a threat.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve