Mark began then found nothing else to follow it.
Isoldé left the piano and came over to curl on the hearthrug beside the black cat. The cat yawned, stretched and laid his head on Isoldé’s knee for a stroke. She rubbed his ears.
‘That’s Embar,’ Mark told her, ‘Tristan’s cat. He stayed with me.’
Mark had brought cheeses, biscuits and fruit as well as rosemary tea. She was glad of the herbs, couldn’t have coped with coffee. They talked about music, about the singing masterclass with Tristan that Isoldé had gone to some years back.
‘I didn’t know you played the harp,’ he said.
‘Only for folk music and only for fun, I’m not a professional.’
‘Did you bring it with you?’
‘No. I came to see Caergollo. And you. And it’s only for the weekend anyway.’
‘Would you bring it next time?’ Mark realised what he’d said,held his breath waiting for her answer.
‘Yes.’ She turned to him, a smile lighting her eyes.
Saturday
Sunlight peeking through the window to stroke her face woke Isoldé. She stretched, luxurious and alone, rolled out of the big bed and went to the window. A buzzard called. Looking out over the garden, she watched him circle high up then slide down the air currents to land in one of the trees on the other side of the stream. Mark had left binoculars on the window seat; she took them and, holding her breath, watched the bird feed the chick. For a moment she stood at the window, looking out, seeing nothing, thinking about last night. They had hardly touched, just occasional fingers brushing. ‘Not yet,’ something had whispered to her, ‘wait.’ He seemed to feel the same. She put the binoculars down and went to shower.
Out on the cliff path the light on the grass was bright and fine, glittering with dew. She rounded a bend in the cliff trail and stopped short. A hare sat in the path. ‘Hello,’ she breathed, standing quite still lest she startle the creature away.
The hare came closer. Whiskers twitching, it stretched towards her until she felt the wetness of its nose as the creature touched her bare ankle below the rolled up jeans, then it sat back. Isoldé slowly crouched down and stretched her hand towards it. Again the nose came forward, this time the lips wrinkled back and she felt the teeth rub against her skin. She hardly dared breathe.
Having scented her, the hare dropped to all fours again and moved away a pace then it turned its head and met Isoldé’s eyes. She felt something stab through her, almost like a recognition. The creature turned away and loped slowly up the path.
Isoldé followed, but the hare was soon out of sight. She continued along the path until, rounding another corner, she came on a girl picking herbs. Isoldé stopped short, began tospeak, stopped. The girl looked up, a startled look in her wide brown eyes then she looked quickly away and hurried further down the path around a rock. Surprised, Isoldé followed but not too fast, it was obvious the girl didn’t want company, when she rounded the rock in her turn, there was no-one there. The girl must have known the path and the cliffs very well, she would have had somewhere out of sight to hide until the stranger had gone. Isoldé went on towards the sea. As she came to the next bend she couldn’t resist looking back. There, sat beside the rock, was the hare.
Isoldé stood a moment, watching while the hare loped off behind the rocks again, then carried on until she came to a small waterfall. There she stopped to sit on a stone, listening to its song. The morning was still amongst all the water noise, she felt herself drifting off, lulled by the continuous soft voice of the fall.
Something warm and wet blew on her hand. She froze, looked round. The hare was back and sat beside her, whiskers whiffling, nose within an inch of her hand. ‘What is it?’ she whispered, ‘what do you want?’
The hare stared at her out of wide brown eyes then nuzzled her hand again.
A cold feeling