The Lake Louise Sharland (each kindness read aloud txt) 📖

sunlight stream in through the pine canopy, bathing him in a curtain of gold.

‘I was walking,’ he says in his usual straightforward manner.

‘Me too.’

He steps forward, and I find myself walking alongside him in silence, neither of us awkward or uncomfortable.

‘Thank you,’ he says, as we reach the fork in the path that will lead us back to the Cobbles.

‘What for?’

‘For your defence of my work this morning.’ He smiles shyly, and I see just how handsome he really is, his narrow face and high cheekbones giving him a slightly haunted look. ‘The way you challenged Dr McKinley was very …’ he ruminates over his next word, ‘impressive.’

‘I thought your piece was sensitive and extremely well written.’ I find myself becoming both angry and slightly tearful. ‘She was wrong, Caleb. Completely wrong.’

Now he is openly grinning, exposing perfect white teeth. ‘And you know something about living in a religious community?’

‘Pardon?’

‘This morning you mentioned brethren?’

‘Oh, that,’ I reply, wishing that I hadn’t let my emotions get the best of me. ‘It was nothing.’

The look of disappointment on Caleb’s face makes me reconsider.

‘Plymouth Brethren,’ I say, and, seeing his lack of comprehension, I continue. ‘Exclusive Brethren, which meant we weren’t allowed to mix with any non-Brethren, read non-religious material, watch telly, listen to the radio; even have a pet.’

‘Sounds tough.’

‘They were hugely controlling, and unfortunately my family had a particular fondness for corporal punishment.’

Caleb sighs. ‘Now that I understand. Why did you leave?’

‘We were cast out when I was fifteen.’

‘Cast out?’

‘Sort of like being disfellowshipped.’

Caleb gives a grimace of understanding. ‘And why?’

At first I wonder why he would ask such a personal question, but something about the way he is regarding me – open, honest, and clearly interested – makes me trust him.

‘I got pregnant.’

Caleb is silent, but his eyes never leave my face.

‘Ah well,’ he says after a moment, a gentle smile playing at the edge of his mouth. ‘That’s one way to free yourself.’

I find myself smiling too. ‘It was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

His expression grows serious. ‘Then why are you so sad?’

I freeze, shocked by his insightfulness.

‘I’m sorry,’ he looks away. ‘That’s far too personal a question. I apologise.’

‘It’s all right,’ I say, and I mean it. ‘It’s nice to meet someone so open.’

‘A blessing and a curse,’ he replies sheepishly.

We walk on, speaking only occasionally, but enjoying the tranquillity of each other’s company. As we approach the halls of residence I stop and put my hand on Caleb’s arm.

‘I would really appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about what I’ve shared with you today.’

‘Of course.’

‘Nothing about my past, my pregnancy.’

He puts his hand on mine. ‘You have my word.’

Feeling both awkward and content I slip my hand from his arm. Not wishing to be seen arriving together, I hold back. Caleb clearly understands my anxiety, and without a word, carries on without me. I note his long strides as he walks onwards, and his well-muscled arms as he pulls the metal gate shut.

‘Caleb?’ He turns towards me. ‘I think you are an extraordinarily talented poet.’

32

Dinner that evening is fillet steak with mash, and some sort of nut roast for the vegans. The burgundy is flowing, and my glass never seems to be empty. McKinley, at once effervescent and smug, arrives just as the cheese course is being served. Parking herself next to me at the long dining table, she fills a wine glass and then helps herself to the cheeseboard.

‘How did it go?’ Sally calls from across the table. McKinley responds with an enigmatic smile and a bite of brie.

As we make our way towards the boathouse, I find myself listening to McKinley’s cheerful chatter with growing confusion. The tutor is on form, listening intently to the students’ concerns, offering advice, reassuring them. Maybe it’s her recent success, or perhaps the course administrator has had a word with her – whatever it is, it seems to have transformed her from a self-centred idiot into someone with an energy and charisma that is undeniably compelling.

When we reach the boathouse, a large space has been cleared in the middle of the room and Malcolm and Becky are attempting to teach the group Scottish country dancing. Before I know what is happening, I have been dragged from my chair and into the throng. The wine and music, along with the cool breeze from the lake, seem to have imbued the room with a sense of gentle hysteria, and before long I find myself overcome with laughter.

After a particularly robust promenade in which I step on Dave’s toe, I excuse myself to get some fresh air. Above me, the evening sky has shifted and nearby a bonfire blazes on the sand. I remember what it feels like to be happy. I feel a hand on my arm and, thinking it is Caleb, I turn.

‘No need to be out here alone.’

‘Desra.’

‘You’re far too hard on yourself, you know,’ she says. I am speechless. ‘I realise you’re a novice, but I was impressed by your work today.’ She sways slightly and then grips my arm to steady herself. ‘Your openness and vulnerability are very appealing.’ I feel my throat constrict but say nothing. ‘So, tell me Kate, where does it all come from?’ She moves closer and I resist the urge to push her away. Now is the moment to ingratiate myself, gain her trust.

‘My marriage breakdown I suppose. It’s been difficult.’

‘And the kids? You have children, don’t you?’

I count to three. ‘No.’

‘Oh, I was certain you …’ she shakes her head as if to clear away a thought. ‘Never mind. What’s important is that you’re using that pain as a means of expression.’ She pats my shoulder, nearly touching my neck. ‘I’ll be starting one-to-ones tomorrow. I think you and I will work well together.’

My close-mouthed smile conceals gritted teeth. ‘I’m sure we will,’ I say finally. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Desra,’ Sally’s voice rings out. ‘I need a partner for the Acadian Jig.’

McKinley leans forward,