Chapter 65 Kier

65

Kier

Devon, July 2018

Two days to go until the wedding and finally I'm working again.

It's like the haze has started to clear in my head, the soupy mess of thoughts still circling, but no longer stuck on the same loop: worrying over who might be watching me. Churning over the situation with Zeph. Romy.

I'm sat outside, Woody at my feet, sketching out ideas for Ramon and Luis's commission. It's taken a few days, but I've finally gotten beneath the skin of the brief, found something that strikes at the heart of who they are as a couple: the vineyards at their venue.

My research has thrown up intoxicating images; intricate grapevine motifs sculpted and painted on tomb walls in Greek and Roman times, the vines winding over ceilings and walls, laden with fruit.

Grapes were taken as an offering on the journey to the underworld, symbolising abundance and prosperity. New life after death. Despite the macabre undertone, there's hope in the images. Growth .

It's perfect: a way of celebrating their love of wine without resorting to clichéd bottle motifs or toasting glasses.

Making sure Woody's settled with a new bone, I start working through my first idea – to not only have the vines as a border decoration but winding through the text itself.

Within minutes, I'm consumed, sounds, sights, drifting away.

It's only Woody, barking, that breaks the reverie. I soon see what's caught his eye: a movement past the side of the van. Flickers of colour – clothing, people.

My head jerks up, but as the shapes become clearer, my shoulders drop, relax.

A mother and daughter, towels in hand, on their way to the beach.

The initial surge of adrenaline quickly dies away. The fear that gripped me a few days ago, it's not so acute. I still feel like someone's out there, watching, but it seems less immediate; a distant threat as opposed to something looming.

Something else is now consuming my thoughts, distracting me.

Zeph's words: You don't think there's a chance you could be?

My eyes slip towards the unopened pregnancy test in my bag.

I know I have to do it, be certain, but I haven't been able to bring myself to. Not yet.

The idea feels precious – a bubble I don't want to pop by probing too hard – but every conversation I have with Zeph is shaped around it. Despite the distance between us, it feels like it's joining us together. A tether, a tie, stretching across the Atlantic.

The questions I have about him – they're still there, but they're fading, like pieces of clothing left out too long in the sun to dry.

I stand up, look out to sea. The air is sticky-still, the water glassy. It's beautiful. Reminds me of when I loved living here. Of when I drew that first map.

Somehow, I've lost sight of that since I've been back. The unmapped have become bigger than all those happy times .

But these past few days, it's as if I can see them again. It makes me think about the new maps we could create. Zeph and I, as a family.

I place my hand on my stomach, let it rest there.

Even though the idea isn't yet substantiated, it already feels oddly weighty. Solid. Solid enough perhaps, to do what nothing else has before – supplant the monster inside me.

If it does, maybe I can rest a while. Stop running. Just be.