Jon McGregor - Reservoir 13

Su Cooper carried the new issues of the Valley Echo around the village in a large shoulder-bag. The bag was heavy, and it took her the whole afternoon to finish the job. Austin had tried to insist he could manage, but he’d already worn himself out getting the issue printed off. She was the one who’d listened properly to the advice he was given after his heart attack, and she was the one making sure he stuck to it. Gentle exercise, a good diet, sleep. Not lugging a bag up and down steep cobbled streets. She was strict with him, as the doctor had said she might need to be. It came easily. She wasn’t going to let him bugger himself up again. There was rain and the river was high. The reservoirs filled. Towards the end of each day Maisie Jackson filled a bowl with hot water, added soap and a little oil, and carried it through to the front room with flannels and a towel. When Jackson saw her he made a face that carried as much love as it did disdain. She ignored him, stripping back the covers and unbuttoning his pyjamas, and squeezing out the hot clean flannel. While she washed him he kept his gaze turned firmly to the window and the hills beyond. The fieldfares were gone from the field behind the church.

In the meadows by the river the early knapweeds were up, their thistly pink heads nodding when anyone walked past. In the village hall the well-dressing design was laid out on the boards, pinned into place, and the outlines pricked through into the clay. Irene watched to see that it was done well, then gave the nod for the paper to be peeled away. In Thompson’s fields the wrapped bales were lifted on to a long low trailer and taken to the yard to be stacked and netted. Les Thompson watched with a careful gaze as they worked. At the allotments Mr Wilson’s asparagus spears nibbed from the thick black soil. After a week the first two dozen were cut and carried away by Clive, the rest left to grow to their full ferny height, ready for the following year. James Broad fell and broke his leg while climbing on the edges below Black Bull Rocks, and was taken out by the mountain-rescue team. When she heard, Lynsey took the day off from college and went to visit him. He was asleep when she got there and for a few minutes she sat and looked at the dressings on his leg, the bruising on his arms. The movement of his eyelashes. She pulled the chair a little closer to the bed and he woke up. Here for some practice? he asked. She looked at his leg again. Someone needs to change those dressings, she said. But I’m not touching it. You’ve probably got the lurgy or something. He looked at her. The lurgy? Yes, James. The lurgy. It’s a medical term. And plus you smell. The nurse training’s going well then? he asked. Must be scoring well on bedside manner. Great, she said. It’s going great. How’s the climbing? Yeah, fine, he said. Climbing’s fine. It’s the falling I’m not so good at. She laughed, finally, and when he laughed as well he winced suddenly and stopped himself. She flinched. Ribs? she asked. Very good, Nurse. Yes, ribs. Not broken, but kind of fucked up. She didn’t say anything. She stood up and leant over him slowly and kissed his mouth. She hadn’t meant to and once she’d started it was difficult to stop. He kissed her back, and his hand came up to the side of her face. She stepped away. She didn’t actually wipe her mouth but she might as well have done. Lynsey, he said. James, no. She looked as though she might say something else, but she picked up her bag and left.

The first time Gordon Jackson slept with Olivia Hunter he was reminded vividly of the time on the hill with her mother. For a moment he had reservations. There was a similarity in her voice, although she had less to say. She seemed less certain of what she wanted than her mother had been. But she wanted something, and it hardly seemed fair to explain what his reservations were. Her parents were away and the barn conversions were all empty. He’d been working on Olivia for a time now and things were at a good stage. She was naked almost as soon as they got into the room. She was good to look at, but she seemed uncomfortable with him looking. She knelt on the bed. Her skin was very clear. Taut. He felt himself to be in good shape but looking at her now made him feel worn-down. She held out a hand and reached for his belt. He took hold of her shoulder and laid her down. She kissed him so hard it lifted him off the bed. There was a crushed smell of lavender coming in through the open window, and the sound of a quad bike on the hill. In the conifers there were buzzards bringing food to their nests, the chicks growing quickly and demanding more each day. At the allotments the early potatoes were lifted, pale and smooth as hens’ eggs on the warm dark soil.

August was dry and still and a dust rose from the fields and there was a great fear of fire on the hills. The young woodpigeons left the nests and practised their flight, beating up from the trees before cracking their wings into a stiff glide down to the ground. The badgers spent more of the night outside, and ranged closer to the edges of their territory. There was scent-marking, and in the morning small piles of soft scat could be found. In his studio Geoff Simmons wrapped pots in tissue and bubble wrap and sealed them into cardboard boxes. The people who’d ordered them thought they were getting vases or jugs or cups but they were all simply vessels to him. He labelled the boxes and carried them down the lane to the post office. He left the door hanging open all the time now. The Jones house was empty. There was uncertainty about where Jones had gone, and no one could agree on when he’d last been seen. But the house stayed dark and when the leaves fell they blocked the gutter and the rain started spilling under the eaves and staining the render. The post was still being delivered, and could be seen piling up behind the glazed front door. Brief consideration was given as to whether he might in fact be in there, passed. But Brian Fletcher knew where his sister was, and on enquiry was told that he was still visiting her, and so the matter was dropped. What he did with his house was his business, people said. Irene visited once or twice, and tidied the front garden, and arranged for the gutters to be cleared. At the cricket ground the game against Cardwell was lost.

In September Rohan and James came over from Manchester, and Sophie from London, and they met up with Lynsey for the day. They’d talked about it at Christmas and it had taken this long to arrange. The original plan had been to go for a walk, but James was still on crutches so they went for a drive instead. They met at the Hunter place on a Sunday morning, and the four of them sat at the breakfast bar with coffee and croissants. Stuart was working away, but Jess hovered around asking questions and talking about how little time seemed to have passed since they’d been teenagers perching on the same high stools. I don’t suppose you’ve got the time to look at photographs now, have you? she asked. I’ve got some wonderful ones from your last day of school. They were polite but they said they had to get on. She stood in the doorway and watched as they all piled into Sophie’s car. The kitchen shook with quietness behind her. Olivia was already out for the day. She turned, and tidied their breakfast things away. The four of them drove up past the visitor centre and headed for the access roads by the higher reservoirs. They didn’t have much of a plan. Sophie asked James how bad his leg was and he said he wasn’t a total cripple but he couldn’t walk more than a couple of miles. It’ll get better though, will it? As long as I don’t do anything stupid. Like fall off Black Bull Rocks, that sort of stupid? Yeah, that. As long as I don’t do that again I’ll be fine. And as long as we don’t hold you down and jump on your leg? Yeah, that’s not going to help either. Got it. Just checking. Sophie headed up the new access road to the wind turbines, and parked at the top. From here they could see seven of the reservoirs, stepping down towards the village and the river beyond, and in the other direction the motorway. The wind was up and the car was shaking. This should blow the hangover away, Rohan said, and they all opened their doors. James needed a hand to get steady on his crutches, and Lynsey and Rohan walked either side to keep him sheltered from the wind. They made their way along the ridge. The turbine blades whipped round overhead. The clouds were being scattered ragged in the wind and the light around them flickered. Lynsey put her arm through James’s and leant into him slightly as they walked. The three of them moved slowly. Sophie was impatient and kept striding ahead, turning to take pictures of them on her phone and then waiting for them to catch up. The road became a track and the track became a footpath and James started to wince. They could see the old water-board buildings at the top of Reservoir no. 7. They stopped, and he said he thought he’d had enough. There was weather coming from the motorway and they agreed to turn back. Well, it wasn’t exactly the Iron Man challenge, but it’ll do for a first attempt, Rohan said. We’ll try a bit further next time, will we? James was already clenching his teeth with discomfort and didn’t reply. Lynsey kept hold of his arm. Next spring, Sophie said. We’ll do the whole of the Greystone Way, the four of us. All of it? That’s a ten-day walk, at least. Book the time off now then. You’re not scared, are you? That’s a long time to be away, Lynsey said. She didn’t quite say that Guy wouldn’t like it, but they could see that’s what she meant. By the time they’d got back to the car it had been agreed that they would definitely do it in the spring, but only Sophie really believed they would. They went back to Sophie’s so Rohan and Lynsey could drive their cars into town and they had lunch at the pub by the river. The weather had passed and it was just warm enough to sit outside. Rohan talked a bit about how his music was going, and Sophie tried to explain about the start-up she was involved with in London. Lynsey’s phone chirped a few times, and the third or fourth time she said she’d have to get home. James suddenly pointed in alarm at something on the other side of the river. There was nothing there, but while Rohan and Sophie turned to look he leant forward and kissed Lynsey softly on the cheek. She shook her head urgently and he smiled. Let’s go, he said, taking off his shoes and socks and setting them on the table. He didn’t wait for the others to join him and he didn’t count to three, but by the time he’d hobbled over to the water’s edge they were beside him, barefoot, Sophie and Rohan taking an arm each and helping him down the bank. Lynsey carried his crutches. Even at the end of a long summer the water was gasping cold coming down from the hills, and they each caught their breath as they made their way across. In the middle they paused. They’d be setting off in different directions from the car park, and three of them had a long way to go. They weren’t ready to leave. The water washed around their ankles and turned over beneath the bridge. In the beer garden a blackbird poked at the crumbs beneath their table. The river was cold and it kept moving and they stood and looked up into the hills.