The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(89)

‘The tried and trusted method,’ Elsie said, to me, her mood improving now that we’d got off the subject of Daniel Defoe.

Dr Weir was thinking. ‘As for Slains…I’ll have to do a bit of reading, see if I can’t find a spy or two who might have ventured that far north.’

And with that settled, we moved on to talk of other things.

I stayed much longer than I’d meant to. By the time I left them it was dusk. The rooks were gathering again above the Castle Wood, great clouds of black birds wheeling round against the night-blue sky and cawing raucously. I quickened my steps. Up ahead I could see the warm lights of the Kilmarnock Arms spilling out through its windows and onto the sidewalk, and crossing the road I turned briskly down Main Street, my eyes on the dim looming shapes of the dunes rising up on the opposite side of the swift-rushing stream.

It was windy tonight. I could hear, farther off, the great roar of the waves as they rolled in to break on the beach and slip backward, collecting their strength to reshape and roll shoreward again in an endlessly punishing rhythm.

It had a hypnotic effect. When I started to climb the dark path up Ward Hill, my steps were all but automatic and my mind was filled with waking dreams. Not all of them were pleasant. There was something unseen on that path, not chasing me but waiting for me, and as I tried hard to fight the rising sense of panic gripping me, I suddenly stepped forward into nothingness.

It was like stepping off a curb without expecting to. The ground was there, but lower than I’d thought that it would be, and when my foot came down it came down hard into a deep rut underneath the thickly tufted grass, and twisted so I lost my balance and began to slide.

There was no time to think. Pure instinct made me grab at anything to stop myself, and by the time I’d registered the fact that I had left the path and was now slipping dangerously down the steep side of the hill above the sea, my fall was stopped abruptly by a line of leaning temporary fencing that was strong enough at least to hold me while I tried to catch my breath.

From my ankle came a fiercely shooting pain that burned like fire. In full awareness now, I looked up at the spot from which I’d fallen. What a stupid thing to do, I thought. The path would have been plain to see, despite the growing darkness. I had no excuse. Except…

Now that I thought of it, this hadn’t been the first time that my judgment had been off. The only difference was that when I’d come close to stepping off the path before, there had been someone walking at my side to steer me back. Tonight, there hadn’t been. I’d been alone, and lost in thought, and with no guide but my subconscious.

Distracted for a moment from my ankle’s pain, I chanced a look down at the steep fall to the sea below me, and I wondered just what shape the shore had been, in 1708. Could it be possible my own steps were remembering a different path, along a stretch of land that had since fallen to the slow, eroding forces of the wind and sea?

As if replying to that thought, the wind blew colder, and reminded me I’d fallen in that place along the path that always made me feel uneasy. And when I saw the shadowed shape above me of somebody walking past along the path, my first response was not to feel relief, but apprehension.

I was glad to see the shadow stretch and shape itself to something more familiar, if a little unexpected. And I called to it as loudly as I could.

‘Christ!’ said Stuart Keith. He came down the hill like a sure-footed mountain goat, and in an instant was crouching beside me. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I fell,’ I said. ‘It’s nothing much, I’ve only hurt my ankle. But I need a little help.’

He frowned, and felt my ankle. ‘Is it broken, do you think?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s only twisted. Maybe sprained.’

‘Well, you’d best let a doctor decide that.’

‘It isn’t that serious. Honest,’ I said, to his unconvinced face. ‘I’ve broken my ankle before, and I know how that felt, and this doesn’t feel anything like it.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Very sure. If you’ll just help me up,’ I said, holding my hand out.

‘You’re sure you can manage? Because I could carry you.’

‘Great. Then we’d both end up over the edge.’ With my jaw set, I said, ‘I can climb, I’ll just need you to help me.’

He did more than help me. He practically hauled me back up the long hillside and onto the path. Then, wrapping an arm round my shoulders, he supported my weight while I hobbled the rest of the way to the cottage.

‘Here we are,’ said Stuart, his own breathing labored from holding me up. He waited for me to unlock the door, then helped me through it and steered me across into one of the armchairs.

‘Thanks,’ I said with feeling. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done, if you hadn’t turned up.’

‘Aye, well—rescuer of damsels in distress, that’s me.’ He flashed a smile more self-aware than Graham’s. ‘Keep that ankle up, now. I’ll get something to put on it.’

All that I had in the small freezer part of my fridge was a bag of mixed vegetables, but that worked fine. And it did make my ankle feel better. I leaned back in my chair and looked at Stuart. ‘When did you get back, anyway?’

‘Just now. I had thought of waiting till morning to look in on you. A good thing I didn’t.’