Page 20 of The Clifftop Cottage

Gabriel ran from the river, his breath sharp in his chest, his skin stinging and alive. Cold like this stripped everything back – no clutter, no noise, just the burn of being alive.

It was a ritual, this swim, something ingrained in him since he was a boy. No matter the weather, no matter the ice that sometimes skimmed the surface in the dead of winter. He came back here every year, on the same day.

But today, as he pulled the rough towel around his shoulders, he felt it differently. An ache settled in places it hadn’t before, deep in his bones, a lingering reminder that time wasn’t waiting. He was still strong, stronger than most men he knew, but a quiet awareness had begun to creep in.

Shivering, he wrestled with damp jeans and heavy boots, cursing under his breath as numb fingers fumbled at buttons. The worst part of wild swimming wasn’t the plunge, it was the fight to reclaim warmth afterward. When he finally yanked a thick jumper over his head, he let himself pause, looking back at the water.

The river curled through the valley, spilling over a ledge into the deep pool below. Even on a day like this, with frost still clinging to the grass, the water shimmered a soft turquoise, clear enough to see the stones beneath. Mist wreathed the edges, rising like breath from the earth before vanishing into the morning air. It had always felt like a place set slightly apart. A secret, it felt, kept between him and the river.

He dipped his head in a quiet nod, a mark of respect, before disappearing into the wood.

The trees swallowed him in their familiar hush, the morning light slanting low between the trunks. The air smelled of damp earth and moss, rich and ancient. Here, tied to the branches, were the ribbons – hundreds of them, fluttering softly in the cold breeze. Some were tattered, faded to near-translucence, others bold in their silks and velvets. They clung to the trees like prayers, messages left behind by those who believed in something beyond the tangible. Wishes, grief, gratitude, the wood held it all.

As a child, he had spent long summers playing here, weaving through the trees while his friends were kept away by parents who muttered about bad luck and old stories. His own mother had never discouraged him. Respect the trees, she’d said, and they’ll respect you back. So he had always offered a quiet thank-you when passing through, touching the bark in acknowledgement, never disturbing what others had left.

Running a hand through his damp hair, he stepped from the shadows into the light. The sun had risen fully now, spilling over the hills, turning the wood behind him into something golden, something that almost didn’t belong to this world. Mist curled along the road, and beyond it, his old Land Rover waited, Chep watching patiently from the passenger seat, tail thumping once against the door.

With one last glance at the trees, at the ribbons shifting like ghosts in the morning breeze, Gabriel climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut. Soon, the tourists would arrive, cameras in hand, eager to capture the magic of the place.

But they’d never really know it, not like he did.

He reached for the keys, then paused.

For a second, he saw her again. Standing too close to the edge, like she didn’t quite feel the ground beneath her.

His jaw tightened.

Then he started the engine, gave Chep a quick pat on the head, and drove off before the quiet was broken.

Before heading home, Gabriel figured a quick detour was in order. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then flicked on his indicator, turning off the main road just before it curved towards Rock Cove.

The road stretched ahead, flanked by open farmland, the landscape vast and familiar. To his left, a field of geese milled about, their honking carrying across the crisp morning air. On the right, seagulls wheeled low over freshly turned earth, scavenging for worms and insects stirred up by the plough. Being so close to the sea, the farm always drew its share of opportunistic birds, much to his brother-in-law’s constant irritation.

Pulling up outside the large farmhouse, Gabriel cut the engine and leaned forward on the steering wheel for a moment, watching. Across the yard, Kenny was already halfway to the wooden shed, no doubt off to start on repairs before the weather turned again. October was a month of preparation – securing fences, tending to late harvests, readying the livestock for the harsher weeks ahead.

Seeing the Land Rover, Kenny paused, shielding his eyes against the rising sun before offering a sharp salute.

“Nice day for it, Gabriel.” His voice carried easily across the yard. “You here to see herself?”

“I am indeed. She in the usual spot?”

Kenny huffed a laugh. “Aye. Tread carefully, though. The kids have only just been packed off to school. It’s chaos in there!”

Gabriel grinned. “Thanks for the warning.”

He shut the gate behind him, rolled his shoulders, and headed inside. If Kenny was already escaping to his farm work, that meant she was likely inside, trying to salvage some peace from the morning’s madness.

And Gabriel, as always, was about to disturb it.

“Hello!” he called from the porch, though he knew it was pointless. His sister would never hear him over the chaos.

Letting himself in, he stepped straight into the obstacle course of family life – wellington boots scattered across the floor, jackets in every possible size and colour crammed onto just two hooks, competing for space. He nudged a stray boot aside, then neatly placed his own in the corner before creeping down the bright hallway.

Despite being an old farmhouse, the house had a way of swallowing light rather than inviting it in. Narrow corridors and small windows made it feel dim, but it was never gloomy. It was warm, lived-in. A home in the truest sense. Even after just a short visit, Gabriel always left feeling full in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

He pushed open the kitchen door, where the radio blared over the hum of the washing machine. Sorcha was at the big wooden table, hunched scrolling through her phone. Her hair had mostly escaped its ponytail, and she was still in her pyjamas. When she looked up and spotted him, she jolted, like a child caught skiving off school.

“Did I scare you?” Gabriel smirked, already reaching for the kettle and filling it.