A Quiet Life

‘I’m going away tomorrow,’ she says to the first of the two men. ‘I’ll be gone for four days.’

‘I see. Come up here on Tuesday. Just below here – you see, there, where there is a footpath into the forest – do you see?’

‘Yes. At this time?’

The two men look at each other and nod. She gets back into the car and turns the key backwards and forwards. She presses the gas too hard and it roars and jolts. They move away, and then she does too, but quite slowly, so that soon the other car disappears ahead of her. When she gets to the restaurant on the outskirts of the village, she parks the car and just sits there for a while, tracing a pattern in her print skirt with her finger, and her mind is blank. This is the fork in the road, so long awaited; but now it is here she cannot see past it. It is as if there is only darkness ahead.

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