Page 47 of On The Edge

She realised she was very close to a few small local standing stones, and decided to walk on further to see the Neolithic monuments, passing by a church and a small field. Six large standing stones stood in the middle, outlined in a hazy silver light. She strode up to them, pressing her hand tipsily on the cold stone to see if she might feel something from those people, thousands of years before her doing this exact thing, or if, even better, she might be transported to another time, like shows she had seen on television. It was only then that she heard someone approaching.

“Hey, lassie! You cannae be out here all alone at this time o' the night!” came the deep voice, putting on a terribly dated Scottish accent.

“I think I can defend myself... also, I imagine that the most crime this place has ever seen in the last decade is a twelve year old stealing a pack of cigarettes from the local supermarket!” she countered, trying to not sound annoyed at Patrick, or give away how much she had actually drunk.

Gentle sounds of water lapped near them, the night was still and quiet. Even the ceilidh in the distance could not be heard.

“No, I meant from the Fae!”

“The Fae?”

“Yes, the Fae. Mostly in Scottish and Irish folklore - the bad fairies; brownies; little people that cause disappearances and ill-doing. They might take you away to their realm.”

“Frankly, living in a magical world would currently be a lot more fun to me than the real one.”

“Yes, but you’d never be one of them, Cat, you’d never understand them. It would be the life of a prisoner.”

“So you’re superstitious then?” Cat scoffed.

“I’m Irish, of course I am!” Patrick laughed and walked right up to Cat. His hand reached out and touched the stone too. “I wonder how many people have come to see these things, can you imagine? Going back through the centuries, to the very day this stone was placed here; from the folk who put it here, to us – here, now. Thousands of years of history,” He mused for a moment, then looked down at Cat. “Sorry, I love old things. I geek out a little about this sort of thing.”

Cat looked at his face, the pale moonlight hitting the side of his cheek. “I’m the same, I find history fascinating. Though it’s the people I find the most fascinating. Like, why did anyone want to erect a stone here in the first place?” Cat wandered dreamily further into the field to the next stone, feeling Patrick close behind her.

“It’s quite cold Cat, should we not be going back in?”

“I feel good...” Cat sighed, and stumbled a little on the uneven grass. The copious amount of alcohol she was carrying made her giddy. “Come here.” She leaned up against the second stone. Her back pushed up against the cold bumpy surface, with the moon shining on her pale face, she untied her halter neck, looking steadily at Patrick. Then very slowly pulled down the silk, to expose her black lace bra.

Patrick stood in front of her and looked around, perhaps checking for anyone watching. He went up to Cat and kissed her softly, tenderly on the lips. She could feel him taking off his jacket. She felt the dizzy deliciousness of the alcohol calming her mind and lubricating her limbs, only to open her eyes and see Patrick was trying to put the jacket over her shoulders.

“No Cat,” Patrick said in a small voice. “I can't”.

Cat stood still; paralysed by the unexpected rejection of the man that stood before her.

“Cat, you’re shaking!” He wrapped the jacket tightly over her then rubbed her arms.

They walked back to the hall, Cat adjusting her top before they greeted people again. The walk was quiet, with a painful tension between them. Cat felt humiliated, and couldn’t quite believe what she had done. She had thrown herself at him, and he didn’t want her.

“Look, Cat- ” Patrick started, as they approached the music and passed the people smoking outside.

Cat just carried on walking, feeling the most unattractive she had ever felt, and that was after having virtually no sex with Dave for the last year they were together. She could not even look at Patrick, whatever he was going to say, his actions spoke far louder than any words could. She walked through the mass of people, then up to Jess who gave her one look and said gently, “Let’s get you home”.