Sublime

There was something about this remote western corner of Britain that captured the soul and refused to let go, something ancient and wild in the moors and black cliffs and the voice of the sea that spoke always of something unseen and enchanted.

Though it seemed incredible, I had gone back in time. And that wasn’t something a doctor could cure.

In the mornings this was one of the first rooms to catch the light

I would know, and remember, and that was enough.

The Halletts had been one of those rare couples who, between them, made a little world that no one else could touch.

And facing it, set tidily against the clearing’s edge, the little cottage waited for us with its walls still painted primrose-yellow underneath a roof of sagging slates.