Betwixt

Chapter One

"We don't get many visitors up here this time of year," the old woman sniffed, pulling a hand-knitted cardigan tightly around herself. She looked like the kind of person who had never felt warmth in her life. Her brusque manner made it clear from the outset that she did not appreciate having to deal with guests this late in the season, or at this time of night. The old farmhouse stood at the end of a long and winding driveway, half concealed by immense pine trees and the darkening clouds that rushed across the mountains. It was late October and the rugged landscape had wrapped itself in a wild and inhospitable cloak of withering trees and faded grasses; not at all how she remembered it.

The elderly woman's curiosity got the better of her in the end.

"So what brings you to Hollowbrook?" she asked, sticking her rather bulbous nose where it didn't belong.

"I stayed here a few years ago," the younger woman said curtly, hurriedly signing her name and handing back the pen.

Looking at the guest book, Mrs. Donnelly saw the name and a sense of recognition slowly dawned upon her.

"Oh yes, now I remember you, you came with your husband didn't you?" she smirked, very pleased with her own powers of recollection. "I never forget a name", she added with pride. "Oh a fine figure of a man he was, now that I remember him." She leaned comfortably against the doorjamb, folding her arms and settling in for a nice long chat. "He helped me with that old gate to the back field and do you know, I haven't had a problem with it since," she declared, as if this would be of interest to a woman standing alone on a wet doorstep.

Catherine rubbed her forehead hard, silently wishing this woman would take a trip down memory lane on her own time.

"So, can I have the keys please?" she asked, rather abruptly. The approach seemed to work, as Mrs. Donnelly, taken aback by her rudeness, neglected to pursue the inevitable line of questioning that would follow.

"Now, there haven't been any guests in the cottage since the summer, so you know yourself, it'll be a bit on the damp side," she warned, rather unhelpfully. "And the oil tank hasn't been filled," she continued unapologetically, "well, we weren't expecting any guests until the Christmas break. But there's plenty turf stacked in the shed," she broke off, satisfied that she had done quite enough for her untimely guest.

"Thanks," Catherine replied through gritted teeth. It would hardly have killed the woman to light a fire for her, she thought irritably; after all she was paying for the privilege. She put her grievances to one side however, because all that mattered now was getting to the cottage. She needed to be there, to feel close to him.

Her tyres crunched the gravel as they sought purchase in the old woman's uneven driveway. Catherine could still see her in the rear view mirror, standing in the doorway, as her eyes searched the car for any hints or clues as to why anyone in their right mind would drive to such a remote and lonely place for a holiday. Well she could keep wondering, Catherine thought, as she flicked on her indicator for the rain-slicked road that would lead her to Hollowbrook Cottage.

The air felt saturated and heavy as dusk shrouded the landscape. Thick clouds hid the moon and stars from view, leaving her headlights as her only guide on the treacherous road. It had been a while since her last visit, but she knew the cottage was on the right hand side of the road, just after the little bridge. Overgrown hedgerows concealed the entrance, so she knew it would be easy to miss on such a dreadful night. Rain clashed against the windscreen, sending the wipers into overdrive. Their rhythmic movements, like a metronome, cast her mind back hypnotically to the past and when they first found this place.

"You. In the countryside? Nope, I can't see it," Nathan had teased when she revealed the location of their first trip away together.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, feeling a little more affronted than she should have been. Catherine had spent hours trawling websites to find the perfect little cottage for their first romantic getaway.

"Nothing, I've just never seen you as the 'outdoorsy' type," he explained. On seeing Catherine's face, he felt compelled to elucidate further. "I'm pleasantly surprised, I suppose I took you for more of a 'spa weekend' kind of girl. But that'll teach me for making assumptions about you, my beautiful, unpredictable girlfriend!" he said, pulling her into his arms and sealing the deal with a kiss.

Nathan was nine years her senior and at thirty-one, had just become an associate partner with a top solicitor's firm. In his suit, he could be quite intimidating, with his piercing blue eyes and tightly cut blonde hair. His professional ability to argue any point until Catherine admitted defeat was nothing less than infuriating. But when he would arrive home and loosen his shirt, she could see the boyish features that she fell in love with. With each item of corporate clothing that he removed, she could feel her own Nathan coming back to her, with that seductive bottom lip that gave him a natural pout. They would share a bottle of beer and quickly forget whatever plans had been made for dinner. She couldn't imagine ever not wanting him, or wanting to be touched by him. He had disarmed her with his casual proposal, lying in bed one night he simply said:

"Knock knock."

"Who's there," she replied, wrapping her leg around his.

"Marry."

The room fell silent and everything seemed to stop, even her breathing.

"Marry...who?" she said finally, in a very small voice.

"Marry me."