Chapter 38 Elin

38

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

A delicious fug of garlic and herbs envelops Elin as she steps out of the shower and towels herself dry.

Isaac is cooking, something he never did when they were growing up. The knowledge stings: she's missed so much since they've been estranged. Important stuff. Details of his life – the day-to-day knowledge that most siblings took for granted.

‘What are you making?' she calls, pulling her clothes on. ‘Smells amazing.'

‘Spaghetti.' His voice stretches thin. ‘Laure's favourite.'

Pulling back the curtain around the sleeping area, Elin walks over to the hob. She hesitates for a minute, awkward, then puts her hand on his shoulder. ‘Gets you, sometimes, doesn't it? Random moments. I'm the same. With Sam … Mum.'

Isaac's throat bobs. ‘I'll be fine, and then something sets me off … in the stupidest of places. I was shopping the other day and I picked up some aubergines. It was only at the till I realised I didn't like them, that I used to buy them for Laure. She liked them grilled—' His shoulders heave.

Looking at the emotion on his face, Elin realises how little they've talked about Laure, his grief. She's taken his lead on that, sensing his awkwardness, but she knew that sometimes you needed to be the one to ask. ‘Take it you did most of the cooking, then?'

‘Pretty much. Laure liked eating food. Was less fussed about the making of it.'

‘Same as me.' Elin laughs. ‘With Will, my contribution to meals was drinking wine while he cooked.'

Isaac gives a small smile. ‘You know, that's what I miss the most, I think, our evenings. Chewing over the day with a glass of something.'

‘It's the little things, isn't it?'

‘Yeah.' He blinks back tears, and Elin pretends not to notice as he turns his face to wipe them away. ‘Right,' he says, with a forced brightness. ‘I need the loo. You okay to take over pasta watch?'

‘Course.'

Stirring the sauce, Elin glances outside. It seemed to get dark so early here, shadows rapidly rising from the valley floor, enveloping everything in a murky shroud.

The sauce starts to spit, little flecks dotting the side of the pan, so she lowers the heat. As Elin looks back outside, she catches sight of a light flickering in the distance.

Still stirring, she keeps watch, assuming it's a walker, until the light briefly illuminates something she wasn't expecting – the Airstream closest to them.

Elin leans forwards, squints, her pulse picking up.

Didn't Isaac say that no one was coming until the end of the week?

‘Shit—' A sudden burning on the back of her hand. Splatters of sauce coat her skin.

Jerking the pan off the heat, she thrusts her hand under the cold tap, waits until the burning eases. By the time she looks through the window again, the flickering has stopped, the van a dark shell once more .

Elin tries to shake it from her mind. Just a walker, their head torch illuminating the inside of the Airstream … But as the cool water spools over her hand, her mind slips to Leah in the wood, the mobile phone trilling out into the silence.

‘What's up?'

Isaac's voice pulls her from her thoughts. ‘Burnt myself, with the sauce.' She moves her hand, positioning it directly under the stream of water. ‘My fault. Distracted. I thought I saw a light on, over by the other Airstream.' Isaac peers out, nose almost against the glass. ‘Can't see anything now.'

‘Yeah, probably just some walkers.'

She senses him studying her.

‘Look,' he starts. ‘I don't want to pry, but I've noticed you've been a bit on edge, since we've got here.' A pause. ‘Is it to do with the messages?'

‘It's the one I told you about, in the hospital. The photo. It felt like someone was trying to let me know they were there. Could get to me. Ever since then, I've been on' – she gropes for the right words – ‘high alert. Someone gets into a lift beside me, or bumps into me at the supermarket, my mind spirals. I think it's them.' Even now, she can still feel the fear: her heart pounding, the tightening in her chest.

Isaac's lip curls. ‘It's a shitty thing to put someone through.'

‘Yeah, and without Will, it's been rough.'

Reaching for the sieve, he drains the pasta, then pulls out a couple of bowls from the cupboard. ‘So, you and Will … it's over over?'

Elin hesitates. A question she's asked herself many times. ‘I'd never say never, but for now, I think so.'

‘And you're okay with that?'

‘Sometimes, no, but overall, I think it's been the right call. I feel … freer, I suppose. Not tied to who I felt he wanted me to be. We were in these specific roles, I think, when we first met, and when they changed, the balance between us at the end, it was all wrong.'

Emptying the pasta into bowls, Isaac looks at her curiously. ‘Roles? '

‘Yeah. I suppose I was the victim, and Will was the strong one. The crutch, propping me up.' Elin flushes, embarrassed by how it sounds. Weak.

‘And now you've got to be strong on your own.'

She nods. ‘I'm getting there, but sometimes I feel exposed. When you're alone, you're forced to really look at yourself, and that's hard. When Will was around, I could choose not to see myself, put a mask on. Can't do that when you're on your own.' Elin shrugs. ‘Looking back, I reckon I've always been playing some kind of role. At home, work. It's easy in a job like mine, always so busy throwing yourself into other people's problems you don't have to think about your own. Then I'd go home to Will, be what he wanted me to be. I never left myself the time to get to know myself, not really.' She hesitates. ‘To be honest, I was scared to.'

‘Why?' Isaac's face is briefly clouded by steam coming off the pasta.

‘I don't know. Probably thought I wasn't going to like who I was behind the fa?ade.' Elin bites down on her lip. ‘I think I've always been pretty harsh on myself. Maybe a hangover from how I thought Mum and Dad saw me … the whole thing with Sam.'

‘And what do you see now?' Isaac says quietly.

‘That's the thing. I'm not sure, not yet. I'm frightened I'll find out, if I am myself, whether people will like me.'

‘Well, you've got no worries with me on that score.' Isaac meets her gaze. ‘This trip, you and me. I'm glad we're doing it.' His voice is thick. ‘Feels like a fresh start.'

She swallows. ‘Me too.'

Isaac spoons the steaming sauce onto the pasta, and they carry their plates outside.

Elin lights the candles in the lanterns on the table, and they sit and eat in silence, listening to the sounds of the evening around them – owls hooting, the faint rustling of the trees behind.

They're getting there, she thinks, as Isaac leans over to top up her wine.

Bit by bit, they're finding their way back to each other again. Starting a new chapter.