Chapter 2
Simon approaches Matterdale from the A66, and the directions he has been given take him past Great Mell Fell, a friendly introduction to the higher fells beyond. It is May and there are wild flowers along the overgrown roadside. He brakes to check the directions on his phone, and can hear nothing above the gentle sound of the car. It is warm and quiet. He continues, and after a couple of minutes he turns up a track leading away from the road towards some farm buildings he can see on the fellside. The surface is slow and uneven, with a stream running down one side, a stone wall guarding the other. The track turns into a yard, and he parks next to the farm house. Opposite is a barn, and beyond, a gate leading out onto the fields, the high fells behind. Part of the barn is clearly used for the farm; the rest of the building has been restored and converted into a small holiday let.
Simon enters the code into the key safe by the door and lets himself in. Inside is one room, cool and dark with small windows in the thick stone walls. A steep, open wooden staircase leads to a mezzanine overlooking the main room with a bed and adjoining shower room; and Simon dumps his bag on the bed and goes back down the staircase. Beams and stonework are exposed, the plastered walls painted white. Everything small and neat.
He makes himself a mug of tea and takes it outside to enjoy the afternoon sunshine and the view. The stable door is open to the rest of the barn and he looks inside. It is bigger than he expected, stretching away from him. There are stacks of straw bales and a couple of animal pens, not occupied at this time of year. Perhaps not used much at all, there is farming detritus about and it doesn’t look as if anyone has been in recently. At the far end the barn is in shadow save for a slant of sunlight coming through a gap in the roof. Motes of dust dance in the brightness. His eye is caught by a movement in the air, something has disturbed the dust and created a draft. He walks further in. Old rusting farm machinery is stacked against the wall at the far end, some of it clearly hasn’t been used for decades. Relics of an older, harsher time. He stands and breathes, tea in hand, his eyes closed absorbing the atmosphere. The smell is of straw and earth, it is warm in the recess of the barn, there is a feeling of comfort. He opens his eyes and as he does a shadow moves, and he detects a different scent, stale, a smell of old sweat. He can sense someone there. “Hello?” he calls out, looking around him, and into the corners of the building. But when he approaches there is no one.
Simon turns back towards the entrance and there is a man standing quietly in the doorway, stocky, mid-thirties, wearing jeans and a checked shirt.
“Hi, I’m Ian, I thought I’d check you’re OK.”
“Hello,” says Simon, and he approaches, holding out his hand. “Just having a look about. I’ve only just got here. I’m sorry I’m a bit later than I said, traffic was heavy.”
“No, that’s OK. You found the key then. Let me know if you need anything. There are instructions for everything in the folder on the counter inside.” The farmer is quiet for a few seconds. “Are you here for some walking?”
“Running; fell running. I’m doing the Fairfield horseshoe on Sunday. Fingers crossed it stays dry.”
Ian nods. “I think you’ll be OK. It has been very wet the last week, and there’s a front coming through tomorrow or Thursday, but It’ll be clear by the weekend.”
“I’ll do a couple of warm up runs up the fell from here, but I’ve also got friends staying in Ambleside, so you won’t see much of me.”
“Watch out for the common, it’s boggy up there. Some of the paths aren’t very clear. We’re not on the popular walking routes.”
“Thanks, I will.”