What Lies Beneath the Fog

》7《

It took us nearly an hour to get back home. Partly, it was due to the heavy load of groceries we were carrying in our backpacks, but mostly, due to the fog. In some places, it was so thick that the only thing I managed to see was my father's orange rain jacket in front of me.

Dad was unusually quiet throughout the journey, probably just about managing to carry his backpack up the hill.

My thoughts kept returning to Emma, to her unusual beauty and friendliness... She was definitely the most interesting girl I had ever met, so open and genuine, unguarded and unpolished... I couldn't wait to see her again.

Like the previous evening, the mist lingering among the cliffs felt strange and mysterious. As if it was hiding something, or someone who wanted to check me out, wanted to see me, but preferred to stay invisible. At least for the moment. It was a perfectly creepy feeling, making me almost shiver in the damp, mild air surrounding us.

Because I could not see the road unfurling in front of me, the walk home seemed much longer. I was hot and tired when we finally reached our house.

"I thought you got lost or decided to stay at Will's for lunch," Mum said, approaching us from the kitchen as soon as we entered. "I was getting bored."

"Next time you can go shopping with Dad and I'll stay at home, then," I told her, passing her my load of groceries.

"Are you sure, Liam?" Dad interrupted us. "I was certain that going shopping has just become your new hobby. Seeing the way you were looking at that girl..."

"Dad! Don't start!" I protested. My father or not, he was the most annoying person in the world.

He only chuckled and winked at Mum, getting her full attention.

"Have I missed something? What are you two talking about?" I heard Mum asking from halfway up the staircase.

I preferred to escape quickly to my room, not giving her a chance to begin with the interrogation. Dad would be more than happy to fill her in instead of me, anyway.

After the late lunch, which Mum prepared from the things we had brought, both my parents got busy with their work.

Dad sat by the computer in his living room-study, complaining about the poor internet connection of this place. That was the only thing he disliked about our new home. He wanted to finish the research he was working on before going on a few days' long camping trip to the other side of the island.

The bevy of sea otters, along with a colony of some sea birds, lived on a small islet off the shore somewhere over there. Dad planned to watch and photograph the otters, study their behaviour and habits, then write a book on them during the winter.

I was hoping that he wouldn't ask me to come with him, I would much rather explore the mysteries of this island with Emma.

Mum was running late with some paperwork for the school in Stornoway. She sat at the table in the kitchen, working on it, typing furiously on her laptop, and making some phone calls. The school would be shut for a couple of weeks in August before it reopened the first week of September. She had to finish all the papers by the end of the next week.

Knowing my parents, once they started working, they would be there until dinner. That meant I had the entire afternoon to myself.

I went up to my room, carefully avoiding the two most creaky steps. They should be fixed before the old wood crumbles under somebody's feet, I thought, entering my room.

Taking the broken key out of my pocket, I walked over to the window and placed it on the wide windowsill. Despite having stayed all morning in my pocket, it felt strangely cold. My mind filled with questions about the key. What did it use to open before someone decided to break it? How was it connected to the Old Lighthouse and the White Lady? Because I somehow knew that it was.