Liam takes my face in his hands and kisses me again, gently this time, and then suggests we head upstairs.

In bed I lie beside him, listening. There’s no noise of traffic or sirens or car alarms blaring, but the peace and quiet is almost as deafening. It takes a while to adjust to the roar of it in my ears.

I close my eyes and for the first time in months I manage to fall asleep without any problem.

Chapter Six

Day Two

I’m awake before the sun and calculate that I’ve slept at least eight hours. I’m used to existing on much less – usually four or five hours at most – and normally in the morning when I wake up it’s like crawling out of a coma, dragging myself by my fingernails into consciousness. It takes a while on those days for the pieces of my life to rearrange themselves in my head and for me to remember what’s happened. I like that magical moment upon waking where, for a whole minute sometimes, I don’t remember that my mother is dead. I wish I could live in that space always.

This morning though I feel different; alert, awake and with a sense of anticipation for what the day will bring. I haven’t felt like this in months and I hope that it lasts. I rummage through my washbag to find my anti-depressants. Now they’re starting to work, I don’t want to mess it up. I swallow two pills, as well as my contraceptive, and then, leaving Liam still fast asleep, I make myself a cup of tea. I slip out, mug in hand, to wander down onto the rocky beach in front of the cottage.

The sun is rising and streaking the sky pink. There are only a few clouds and the day promises to be beautiful. I wonder what happened to the storm the boatman mentioned; for all his talk of storms and dark histories, nothing has materialised.

I take several deep breaths of crystal-clear air and gaze out in wonder over the mirror-flat water. It’s hard to remember how black and foreboding the loch looked yesterday. Today it looks so enticing that I’m almost tempted to dip my toes in, though remembering how cold it’s meant to be I decide not to. I set my tea down and walk for a little while along the water’s edge, scanning the beach for rocks, gathering several in my arms before choosing a place above the tide-line and setting them down. I crouch down and build a small cairn, carefully balancing the rocks on top of each other until it rises to about knee-height.