‘Right-o,’ Liam replies. Callum is debating what words of strength he can offer when he realises Liam has already hung up.
He drives away from school and back through Ambleside, before taking a turn down a quiet country road. He glances frequently in the rear-view mirror, aware that his behaviour is bordering on neurotic but unable to stop himself. As he travels, the road gradually narrows, while the view widens to a gentle sweep of hillside, clusters of trees with their leaves already dipped in the flaming hues of autumn. At one point he meets an unexpected traffic jam, which turns out to be the result of two oversized timber trucks taking up most of the road. Once he finally gets beyond that, most of the sights are so familiar he barely registers them, but he does notice that Dave McCready has finally moved his old broken-down tractor from the field in front of his house, and that someone has driven into the sign marking the turn-off for Claife Station, a popular tourist track. He is tempted to stop and try to figure out how to fix it, but really that’s just a delaying tactic. Because he’s getting close now, and his growing disquiet can no longer be ignored.
Finally, he reaches the outskirts of the bustling little village of Hawkshead and parks in front of a small cottage. There is no hiding the fact he is there – the Land Rover stands out like a beacon to anyone who knows him. Every instinct tells him just to restart the engine and keep driving, but he also knows that if he doesn’t face this straightaway it is only going to get worse. Whoever spots him will likely think he is on official rescue unit business, but nevertheless, he pulls the collar of his jacket high and walks quickly up the path with his head down, knocking on the door and seeing a curtain twitch a few moments later.
When she answers, she appears pleased to see him. She is still in her pyjamas, her hair hanging loose instead of tied back, as it usually is for rescues. Her smooth bare face reminds him of the age gap between them, and he grimaces.
He had been drawn to her from the start – but only in terms of a general awareness that she was attractive. There were only five women in their rescue division, and the others were much older. All the men at the station had at least noticed Danielle, whether they were married or not. When she first began her training she had quickly slotted into the team – she was a hard worker when she needed to be, often quiet, but always able to keep up with the teasing that everyone used to counteract the more serious side of the job.
He hadn’t registered her interest in him at all, until she began making excuses to spend time in his company. Other people spotted it as well – there had been one or two playful remarks thrown their way, but nothing too confronting – just part of the general camaraderie between them all. There could often be a bit of banter about a good-looking woman, but it never went too far. The blokes at the station might joke about their wives – some called their missus ‘the boss’, some made rueful comments about the state of their sex lives – but they were all acknowledging the compromises, the sacrifices that came from settling. They might enjoy a look elsewhere, but as far as Callum knows not one of them has strayed. They seem resigned, if not content, with the status quo – hell, Callum had been too. At no time had he been looking for an affair, even though he knew there were problems in his marriage. He was accustomed to the awkward silences and miscommunications at home – he didn’t like it, but he had filled his days so that he didn’t have too much time to think about it. The events of last night had taken him by surprise, and this morning he feels close to having an out-of-body experience. Who the hell are you? he asks himself as he stands in the doorway. Because this is not who you thought you were at all.
You didn’t have sex with her, he reassures himself, as though that made it somehow acceptable to let a woman half-undress in front of him, let her kiss him, let her touch him, and let himself respond. As though his breath hadn’t been shallow at the thrill of it. As though he hadn’t been hard with desire.
Yet still, because she had made all the moves, part of him is crying foul, trying to wriggle away from the blame, recasting himself as merely a surprised victim of Danielle’s assertiveness. But while he hadn’t started it, he hadn’t stopped it either. He had made a choice.