Grabbing the tape and my carefully worded note from my room on the pretext of getting my shoes, I hurried down to our usual meeting place. The note said:

Dear Fred,

Dad saw me coming in when we went out. I said I’d been out for some air and he doesn’t know about you, but I need to be really careful and can’t get out to see you for now – he’s watching me too closely. I don’t know what to do.

I made you this, think of me when you listen. Don’t come to the house, it’s too risky, but leave me a note here if you can – I’ll check tomorrow. And every day after that until I hear back from you.

I miss you.

Laura xxxxx

I’d never written anything like that before and had no idea if it was OK or if he would think it ridiculous, but I felt somehow lighter as I walked back to the house, knowing that we’d be communicating later, even if it wasn’t in our normal way.

When it got to the evening, to the time Fred would be arriving to see me, I listened to the tape I had made in my room and silently cried myself to sleep.

43

June 2013

Scottish Highlands

The next morning after breakfast I made another excuse to go out and ran down to our meeting place.

My heart leapt as I saw the tape had gone. I wondered if Fred had listened to it, and what he thought of it. In its place was a plastic bag with a note taped to it.

I stroked it with the tips of my fingers. Fred had touched this piece of paper, he had written these words. It said:

Laura – bummer about your dad. Was looking forward to tonight, to seeing you, and, well, the rest Thanks for the tape – I’m not sure how I’ll play it, but I’ll try. I brought you this – it’s old and basic but my number’s in it so you can text me about when you can next get in to the garden at least though the signal seems pretty patchy around here. Hope you can get out soon.