Page 78 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Ah,’ Wendy says. ‘Yes, I think I see.’
‘But Todd thinks she’s amazing, so, hey, what do I know?’
‘It’s serious, then?’ Wendy asks, climbing up onto the walkway and holding one hand out for her daughter.
‘Yeah…’ Fiona says, frowning.
‘And?’ Wendy prompts. She’s convinced that Fiona’s about to say something important.
Instead, visibly changing her mind, Fiona merely adds, ‘Oh, you know what he’s like, Mum. It’s serious or it isn’t at all.’
They walk for a while along a narrow path until it reaches a wide promontory where the red volcanic rocks tumble into the sea.
To their left they can see two or three different coastaltowns, and behind those the snow-capped Alps rising to meet fluffy clouds. The sea is deep indigo today – and is tipped with delicate whitecaps whipped up by the breeze.
‘This is gorgeous,’ Fiona says. ‘And look, there’s even a bench for lunch.’
Wendy snorts. ‘I kind of imagined we might walk a little, first?’
‘Oh, OK,’ Fiona says. ‘Sure. That’s fine with me.’
To the west, the path narrows, passing through a rusted steel gate and then weaving along in the shadow of a high, red-brick wall built to protect someone’s private property from passing plebs.
‘Who d’you think lives there?’ Fiona asks, peering through a locked gate.
‘Bill Gates, maybe?’ Wendy suggests. ‘Elon Musk? Sting?’
‘Must be worth a fortune,’ Fiona says. ‘God, imagine living here!’
They’ve reached the southernmost point where the path turns west cutting through red rocks, winding in and out to follow the coast, and up and down endless flights of steps as it hugs the profile of the land. Sometimes the sea is tens of metres away, and others it splashes over the path so that they have to study the waves and then run, shrieking, to the other side. It’s beautiful and fun.
‘So how come you chose that particular place?’ Fiona asks after narrowly avoiding a wave. ‘I mean, it’s lovely and everything, but it did kind of surprise me. It’s not really you.’
‘No? What sort of place would be me?’
‘Dunno, really,’ Fiona says. ‘Maybe a little cottage in Cornwall with roses round the door.’
‘I quite like the idea of that, too,’ Wendy says.It’s funny how your kids see you, she thinks.You never really know.
‘So?’
‘Oh, well, it just sort of happened, really. The way these things do. I was looking at places in Norway on the net and?—’
‘Yeah, Dad told me about that. But Norway’s freezing this time of year, right?’
‘I think it would have been dark most of the time, too. So, not one of my better ideas. But this one sort of popped up. And it looked nice. So here I am.’
They catch up with the couple with the dog. The woman, who is limping, has had to sit down for a rest.
Once they have petted the dog, exchanged ‘Bonjours’ and moved on, Fiona says, ‘That dog reminded me of Whitey.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’
‘I still miss him, you know.’
‘Well, he was a lovely dog.’
‘Best dog ever, you mean. You know, Todd wants a dog?’
