part twenty-one
Sunlight bathed my face and a fanning wind whispered against the hairs of my arm and over my chest. My eyes were closed and I felt deliciously peaceful, but I was aware of a great deal of activity around me. I could hear trees, grand trees, swishing nearby, a line of them, surrounding me; and in the trees, amidst their whispering, was the sound of partridges and pheasants, corncrakes and woodcocks. There was grass in the air, sweet pollen tickling my nostrils, and in the distance, carried on the wind, was the silver murmur of a river, like a settling rhythm, the pulse of life.
I opened my eyes and saw that I was in a clearing; there were trees beyond, defining it, a robust line of larches and, hiding beneath their cover, a close-knit beech hedge, rippling in the wind. They were in full bloom, a vivid canopy of greens and yellow and brown, nature resplendent in its summer glory. In front of me was a house. It was small, dainty even, with four tidy windows and a little red door. A central chimney stack spiralled into the corn blue sky, but no smoke came from it: no need, on this fine summer day.
I was lying on my back, neck resting on something soft. Drawing my head up and screwing my eyes against the brightness of the sun, I looked up and saw a face peering down at me. She smiled, hazel eyes crisp and clear in the warmth of the day, her mouth rich and red, drawn back in casual assurance. She was beautiful. Her gentleness radiated from her soft expression.
"Welcome back, Aileen," she said. "You've been asleep for hours, babe."
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